


Poker Face

by silvakuros



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Cardverse, Cheating, Courtship, F/F, F/M, Historical Dress, M/M, Multi, Power Dynamics, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvakuros/pseuds/silvakuros
Summary: When Arthur is promised in marriage to the new King of Spades, Alfred, he imagines his troubles will be limited to somehow coming to love a man he has never met, and learning to govern an entire kingdom side by side, as one. However, when multiple attempts are made on the life of the King and Queen, Alfred and Arthur realize they must, together, assert their rule as the strongest royal house, and take part in the dangerous power struggle unfolding between the four Suit kingdoms.-♠♥♣♦"4 Houses: Spades, Hearts, Clubs, and Diamonds. One will rise, the rest will perish."♦♣♥♠-





	1. ♠A Royal Engagement♠

 

“Here, powder his face more on this side.”

“Mother-“

“Don’t speak, you’ll ruin it.”

“Mother, please! Let me breathe.”

The hands flew away from Arthur’s face in an instant, while he coughed away the cloud of powder surrounding him. It dissipated through the carriage slowly, settling on the passengers’ hair like unseasonal snowflakes. Arthur forced the last of it out of his lungs with an ill sounding hack, jolting all of the women that surrounded him.

“Mind yourself,” his mother warned of his manners, remaining completely unfazed as the makeup blended itself with her white updo.

“And suffocate? I’d rather not,” the blonde scrunched his small nose at the heavy feeling spreading across his face, the thick powder coating his skin. “Am I not pale enough?”

The servants moved on to quickly cleaning his clothing, dusting away the dull sheen that dragged the deep royal blues of his outfit down to unimpressive pastels.

“Besides, I heard the King loves the outdoors,” Arthur chuckled out, unable to dodge the blow that hit his side when his mother brought down her fan on him.

“The King can do as he pleases. You, however, cannot,” the woman shook the powder off of her fan before returning it to her lap, ignoring the venomous look that was seething her way. “We don’t need Royalty thinking you do chores outdoors alongside the help.”

When the cleaning was finished, both girls backed away, sure their eyes did not meet either of the Nobles before them. Arthur let out a dejected sigh, gazing out the window at the just-flowering trees that rolled past. Spring was arriving, a new season, a new year, a new King…

The death of the long reigning King Andrew of the House of Spades sent the country, once at peace, into a frenzy. His rule had been long and virtuous, but the ascension of his heir Prince Alfred was not met with resistance. It was the excitement of the century, and the kingdom was preparing itself to enter an age of jubilee and cheer.

Charming, handsome, and kind to all, Prince Alfred had captivated the hearts of the kingdom since his birth. The mess of wild blonde hair and bright blue eyes had become the staple of an intelligent and blessed monarchy, one who governed with peace and love for their subjects in their hearts.

Or, so they say.

Arthur was not one to doubt the power of the Royal Family of Spades, he was merely a Noble himself, but this whole Prince Alfred business irked him from day one. It was as if the second the late King had fallen ill, a murmur of excitement began to spread between all noblewomen and their advisors. A young King, both attractive and powerful, his bachelor status became the starting point for the power struggle that lasted up until his poor father’s death.

Arthur never entertained himself with the gossip and battles that constantly raged in the Court, but his Mother and her advisors certainly did. They saw it fit to introduce Arthur as one of the possible suitors for the new King, without his consent naturally.

And Arthur was stuck. He could not disobey the Matriarch that held control of his family, but more importantly, he could not say no to his mother. Of course, he did not want to live the life of a Queen, locked in a palace with stiff regulations and even stiffer robes; and he certainly did not want to embarrass himself by presenting alongside the avaricious women who only craved power, but not the responsibility that came with it.

But yet, here he was, only miles outside of the capital city, on his way to make his appeal to the King’s circle for the young Prince’s hand in marriage. Well, it was more as if the late King’s death, and Alfred’s unmarried status, were just invitations that sent out proxy marriage proposals to every noblewoman in the kingdom. Arthur was only answering his call.

“He will never pick me, Mother. I’m older than him, and certainly not as attractive as the women of the Court.”

Arthur’s mother reached out, forcing Arthur to meet her eyes with two hands on either side of his face. Her usually stern, proud demeanor melted away into a mother’s concerning reprimand.

“You doubt yourself before you even know, who taught you to act that way? I surely did not.”

Arthur stopped his whining, and let her smooth out the bow on his neck, arranging the silk fabric until it sat perfectly taut and straight.

“The King is young, he needs someone older at his side to guide him and teach him. There is no other person in this kingdom more suited for this job than you, my beloved son,” she pulled her hands away, setting them in her lap with perfect poise. “I chose this fate for you not for the glory, but simply because I knew the role belonged to you. I know you will make me proud.”

The rest of the ride was silent, Arthur accepting his duty with wavering loyalty, and the nearer the castle approached, the more difficult it became to calm the restless turning of his stomach. More than once he was slapped again with his mother’s fan for slouching, the skin on his shoulders stinging red beneath his clothes.

As they entered the courtyard, Arthur was alarmed by the endless stream of carriages that lined up in perfect order. Inside each one was a beautiful flower, a girl or boy of immeasurable class and beauty, all rushing toward the same goal, all but one forced to bow their heads in defeat.

One by one they entered and exited, their ladies in waiting calling encouragements and praises as they gracefully made their way up the palace steps. Each one returned, face shielded by the decorative flowers and fur of their fans, giving Arthur no clue as to if any had succeeded.

His mother continuously quizzed him as the carriages creaked forward, how to properly bow, how to address each member of Royalty, what exactly he had to offer to the already illustrious family of Spades. Listening closely to each crack of the horses’ reins served as an ominous countdown to the admittedly nerve-wracking event ahead. Whatever the outcome was of this, Arthur was sure his life would not be the same.

Arthur was next now, and when the large doors to the castle opened, the guards slamming their decorative spears against the ground in unison to signal the passage of a Noble, the thumping echoed in time with his heart.

“It’s time,” His mother announced, and the servants’ hands did one more swift straightening of his clothing before the golden doors opened and the steps were laid out. Arthur did not look back, knowing no hugs or kisses would be offered to him, and let himself be helped onto the ground.

The stretch of the courtyard leading to the castle was cut in half by a dark blue, velvet rug, protecting his feet from the hardened marble. Two guards escorted him, saying nothing as they traversed the same piece of land for likely the hundredth time that day. Arthur had half the heart to feel bad for them, but had no time to think as he passed under the mammoth doors into the castle.

The spears again began to hit the floor as he took small steps into the royal castle, making sure to keep his chin lifted, yet holding a demure expression to offset the pride of his stance. Many times had he done this, entered a place where all eyes were on him, somewhere he was forced to become a statue that held only the grace of his ancestors and the grandeur of their name. He was the heir to the Kirkland household, after all.

As he followed the path before him, one thousand eyes of the Royal Family of Spades followed him, glaring down from their positions on the wall, painted and trapped on their canvases. The strong and beautiful faces of Kings and Queens stared without emotion, forever encapsulated and immortalized, their portraits all that remained of their once glorious lives.

At the end of the Grand Hall, greater, larger than them all, sat the portrait of Prince Alfred. The traditional azure robe of the Spades, and the golden crown adorned with rubies and sapphires, signified his position as the highest of the high, the new ruler of the lands farthest explored to the West, and the newly conquered lands in the East.

It had been sometime since Arthur had seen the Prince, the last being at a ceremony long ago for the death of his mother, the Queen. It was a time when they were both children, and it only came back to Arthur in bits and pieces. The only thing he could remember, was that even in all black and in a place of mourning, he still smiled and shone. If he were to be called the King of the Sun, and not Spades, Arthur would have still found it fitting.

His portrait now was not one of a cherubic child, but a young man with the tell-tale strong, noble jaw of the Royal family, his blonde hair matching identically with the others along the walls next to him. The painting was close enough for Arthur to appreciate as they passed below it, and once they were gone, he wondered how true to life the attractive depiction was.

After a winding path, the decadent carpet came to an end before a small table flanked by three men. Arthur immediately recognized the two on the left and right, both long-time advisors to the Royal family he had met many times. They both stood at his entrance, their rank not placing them above the long-standing, aristocratic Kirkland family.

Arthur bowed deeply, legs bent in a curtsy like manner, and they returned the gesture, all except the man in the middle, who made no effort to move at all. This man was an enigma, someone Arthur had never once seen before, or whose existence he had yet to be informed of. Despite this, he bowed in his direction, and the bizarre man nodded in response.

His appearance was that of a person Arthur had never seen before, lacking all characteristics of typical Spades royalty. His long, brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and the interesting bone structure of his face was both intriguing and vaguely beautiful. He was not Spades royalty, but he was surely royalty of some sort.

“Arthur, how much you’ve grown!” the plump man on the left, the Count of Breckenridge, addressed him with the same air he had when Arthur had been a child, seemingly oblivious to the fact that now, being an adult, the Kirkland outranked him.

Smiling through the glaring misstep, Arthur approached, handing him the sealed letter he held in his hands. The Count accepted it, babbling on to the Count of Delafontaine on the opposite end of the table, both enjoying reminiscing about the past at the expense of Arthur’s childhood. How tiny he had been, they said, but it was not if he was exceptionally larger now. Arthur could not help but frown at that.

“Ah, excuse me. This is Lord Arthur of the Noble House Kirkland. Their family has served the Spades Kingdom for many centuries,” the slightly more aware Delafontaine ceased his chattering and introduced the boy properly. Arthur took the hint and bowed deeply to the mystery man in the middle whom he was being acquainted to.

"His mother is the Marquess of Kirkland, meaning he outranks both the Count and I, in truth,” The Count of Breckenridge handed over the letter after he finished reading it, and the Delafontaine concluded his foreword in favor of reading the officially marked paper.

The silent man finally moved to speak, lowering the large sleeve that had blocked his mouth and made him virtually expressionless. With his lips revealed, he addressed Arthur, in a light voice, but one that held familiar power. A Royal’s voice.

“I am Wang Yao, Emperor of Chi. I now also hold the title of High Jack of Spades,” Yao gave Arthur’s shocked state a once-over with his expectant eyes, and went back to covering whatever expression he held with his drooping sleeve.

Upon hearing the word ‘Emperor’, Arthur dropped himself into a deep curtsy, lowering himself even more when his position as High Jack was revealed. An Emperor from the Eastern land of Chi, it explained his appearance and the air he held about him.

Chi was a country newly aligned with the Spades Kingdom, part of the late King Andrew’s expansion of lands after inheriting the long-running Eastern War from his own father. Skillfully he had ended the bloodshed and brought glory to the Spades people, establishing new trade routes and aggregating new lands to conquer.

Chi, however, had maintained its own autonomy, too strong of an enemy to be subdued by any foreign power. Cleverly it had associated itself with the strongest kingdom, the Spades, and now their Emperor sat as the controller of all finances and budgets to the richest country in the West.

It was a smart move, honestly, and Arthur had to applaud the Emperor on taking such avid steps to secure his future, and protect his people.

“It is a pleasure to be in your presences, on today of all fine days,” Arthur spoke the rehearsed line with excellence, making sure his voice rang utterly humble and pleasing. Yao remained inscrutable, but the other two men made notable expressions at the grace and elegance of Arthur’s words.

“So you want to marry the King, hm? I can’t say I blame you, but I never expected to see you here alongside all of the women of the Court in their pretentious battling,” The Count of Breckenridge laughed boisterously, while his companion the Delafontaine scolded him, handing over the letter to Yao.

“Well, my mother saw it fit I pay a visit, given our status and the events that came to pass,” Arthur attempted to sound monotone, but having himself associated with the gibbering of the mindless struggle for power was not entirely flattering.

“Well, Arthur is certainly the most gracious candidate we have seen today, and the one of highest birth as well,” The Count of Delafontaine grinned at the blonde as he accepted the compliment with a bow, turning to Yao when he folded the paper to signal the completion of his reading.

“Your dowry, how much is it?” Yao was rather artless in his speech, but then again, as the controller of all finances his end goal was plainly clear. Arthur adjusted his stance to make sure his heels were touching, and prepared himself to voice his most desirable trait.

“Fifty thousand gold coins, just as the letter says, Your Majesty,” unsure how to address a foreign Emperor, Arthur settled on the highest honor, and waited patiently for his response.

Without a second thought, Yao leaned over first to the Count of Breckenridge to whisper, and then to the Delafontaine, both men nodding at his inaudible words. Arthur did his best to keep his head high, but when they all turned to him with expectant gazes, he felt his calm countenance melt into a nervous frown on his face.

“You, Arthur of the Kirkland house, will be the next Queen of Spades,” Yao’s words were accompanied by a tremendous roar in Arthur’s ears, blood rushing to his face in surprise, and a hint of dread. “You are to attend the crowning ceremony in seven days, where you will be married to King Alfred, and assume your duties.”

Was deciding things so quickly really Yao’s style? Of course, his dowry was impressive, but to decide upon a new Queen with only slight murmuring… Arthur could not believe it.

“Congratulations Arthur!” The Breckenridge stood, clapping rowdily, joined soon by the Delafontaine. “I will serve you and the King dutifully, and to all of my ability.”

“I look forward to the beauty and glory of your reign,” The Count of Delafontaine dipped his head slightly, and Arthur took a tiny step back, still in reeling shock.

“I- Thank you,” Arthur curtsied, somehow managing to remain upright while the world spun endlessly around him. The Queen, the Queen of Spades? This was truly happening?

He had been avoiding the gravity of the situation until now, he must have, because the previous slight discomfort he felt at the concept of it all was now an iron weight on his chest. Once he was dismissed, he forced his legs into a brisk walk as he followed the endless blue road out of the castle, ignoring protocol, keeping his gaze forward. He could not meet the stares of the men and women he would soon rank with, their rigid expressions and confidence pushing down on him from the walls.

Without turning back, he felt the painted eyes of his future husband watching him closely as he rushed out of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and thanks for checking out the little opening chapter of my fic! This was originally supposed to include the wedding ceremony and ball as well, but the chapter just became far too long for my liking. So I decided to upload this tiny bit to test the waters.
> 
> I absolutely love Cardverse, and being a huge historical fashion and Royalty buff, I finally couldn't hold off the want to take my own stab at writing for it. I won't be using the stereotypical 'Medieval' style approach, but more of a Rococo/Baroque themed Royalty and design. Think Marie Antoinette, big dresses, lavish food, lots of alcohol and gambling, and even more sex and power grabbing. Doesn't it sound fun? I'll be changing a couple things for stylistic purposes, and also because I'm not keen on including any sort of ancient sexism or racism in my writing, but the roots will still be all flowers and champagne.
> 
> I have a lot of ships planned for this, but it will mostly be a bit of a slow burn for the main couple (USUK) for the first couple chapters. Each couple will be focused on and given development though, they are ALL my OTPs after all *~*
> 
> So if you enjoyed, make sure to bookmark because I will be updating this within a few days with the next chapter! Also, please leave some kudos and a comment as well, as they keep me going.
> 
> Have a beautiful day.


	2. ♠A Royal Wedding♠

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words and phrases marked with asterisks (*) have factoids/explanations that go with them, and will be listed at the bottom of the work. Enjoy!

“Should we weave the Forget-Me-Nots in, or is that too dismal for a wedding?”

“I think it should be fine, just use a small amount. Make sure they don’t overpower the roses.”

Arthur was once-again at the mercy of a flurry of hands, needles and thread surrounding him from all sides. The final decorations were being applied to his wedding outfit, and the current task was the crisp arrangement of flowers that sat on his chest in dewy, just-picked freshness.

He knew none of the women who were modifying his current outfit, all Royal tailors whom he was introduced to with barely any acknowledgement. They all bowed deeply at him, of course, more intensely than any other servant or helper ever had before; but there was no eye contact, no words. Arthur felt more like a statue than a person, the women almost on their knees at his presence but unable to speak.

He found comfort in his closest friend who stood behind him, Lila, his lady-in-waiting for as many years as he could remember. She had been the daughter of Arthur’s Nanny, and being around the same age, they bonded immediately in the restricted access of Noble life. Rarely was Arthur around other children his age, and while it made him famously literate and comfortable speaking with those much older than him, it also lead to a private loneliness that all Nobles eventually encountered.

Her familiar fingers were working through Arthur’s hair, making the blonde strands soft and lustrous. She smiled as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat while the onslaught of sharp objects swirled around him.

“Would you like some flowers in your hair, Arthur?” The other women froze at her use of the Kirkland’s first name, but continued on without paying her any mind, whispering to themselves. Arthur reached up to feel at his hair, truly lost at if such a thing would be proper.

“I’m not sure…” Lila giggled at Arthur’s pouty voice, backing away to search for any decorations she could weave into his hair. She carefully observed all of the recently cut flowers laying on the nearby table, an entire blue garden wasted just on this one event, over half most likely not going to be used.

At Arthur’s feet, his younger brother Peter sat, watching the entire process with wide, childish eyes. Arthur glared at him, resisting kicking him with his foot as it would jeopardize the other work being done.

“You’ve been staring at me like a dead fish for the past hour, what is it?” The blonde watched as Peter shuffled closer, pushing a tailor out of the way with foolish impoliteness. The woman did not dare rebuke him as he deserved, only making room for the tiny Lord.

“It’s just…. Are you really getting married today, Brother?” Peter stared up with a vigilant gaze, even as the older sibling fell into silence at the question.

“Of course I am,” Arthur finally answered, astutely aware that everyone had stopped talking to listen in on this buzzworthy conversation.

“But… we’ve never even met the King. How can you marry someone you don’t know?” Peter’s naive insight was exactly what Arthur did not need right now, his own fears now laid bare and unavoidable. Ignoring your thoughts was one thing, but ignoring an inquisitive child was another, almost impossible task.

“Idiot, of course I don’t know the King. It’s only proper, I should not know him well until our wedding day,” when in doubt, rely on tradition, and the etiquette lesson coming from his frighteningly formal older brother was enough to quell Peter into a discontented silence.

“But-“ The silence was short-lived, and Arthur shot him a venomous look of familiar, familial annoyance before Lila interrupted the pair. She slid a flower into Arthur’s hair, tucking the stem behind his ear with a satisfied ‘There!’

Arthur pat at it lightly, the velvety petals tiny and silky against his fingers. He turned his head slightly, careful not to disturb the work, and saw her smiling down at him.

“What is it?” Arthur inquired, and she held up a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots, their petite shape matching the one Arthur had felt on his head.

“Forget-Me-Nots, so you remember me,” Lila smelled the sweet flowers to hide her sad smile, and Arthur felt the overwhelming urge to take hold of her hands. He remained seated, however, and softly felt the flower she had placed again carefully, sure his appreciation would reach her no matter what.

The preparations were complete after that, and the women helped Arthur stand, attentively making sure nothing was disrupted as his first movements tested the work they had painstakingly put into the beautiful outfit. They all let out light laughs and soft cheers as everything remained perfectly in place while Arthur made his way to the nearby mirror, two even hugging each other while the blonde had his back to them.

When Arthur saw himself in his wedding outfit, he supposed he should have seen the future Queen of Spades. A Queen of noble birth, one who had wit, tact, and a fierce loyalty to his country and King in his heart. This was all to be Arthur, who Arthur was to become, who he was.

But he just saw himself, with eyebrows too wide and arms still too thin to fill out the bell sleeves they tailored him into. After this day, Arthur would no longer be what he used to be, but for now, he remained the Kirkland boy with a foul attitude and a mess of wild blonde hair that they still were not able to tame.

Even if everyone else viewed him differently, Arthur wondered if he would still see the same face in the mirror.

“You’re thinking too deeply about something, you have that look on your face,” Lila came up behind him and met his blank gaze in the mirror, still wearing her reassuring smile.

“I’m getting married to the King of Spades, what do I have to not think about?” Arthur fixed the stiff collar of lace that was beginning to itch against his neck, averting his eyes from hers to inspect the heavy coat of quilted blue that trailed behind him.

“Are you not excited?” She asked, and Arthur did not respond, instead turning slowly to view the impressive train of flowers that adorned the back of his outfit.

“It is about time we made our way to the chapel, Your Majesty,” the oldest of the women in charge of his care spoke, curtsying as she did. She kept her head tilted down, staring more at Arthur’s shoes than his face, and the blonde nodded.

“Peter, let’s go take our seats with your Mother,” Lila reached a hand out for Peter to hold, the small boy grabbing on tightly.

“Hey Arthur, make sure you don’t fall!” Peter stuck his tongue out at his nervous older brother, receiving a fuming look in return. He giggled wickedly, barely acknowledging the sharp tug Lila gave him in reprimand.

“Will I be seeing you at the banquet after?” Arthur kept his words calm, but the tightness in his throat was already beginning, the palms of his hands getting clammier with every minute that passed.

“Arthur, I hardly have the noble rank to make an appearance at a Royal ball,” Arthur heard the hidden sadness in her words, though she had done her best to keep the appearance of happiness around him, to offset his tension. This would be the last time they ever spoke to each other.

“Oh, yes.” How could he forget? There was a second of silence, before she threw her arms around him, the normally outwardly frigid boy returning her hug faintly, doing his best to keep any semblance of protocol at the already inappropriate action.

When she backed away, there were tears in her eyes, and Arthur held his own back while he brushed away as the ones that rolled down her cheeks.

“Your companionship has brought me the greatest joys of my life,” he dropped his hands from her face and she grabbed onto them, Arthur feeling for the first time how her own palms had perspired like his. Lila smiled once again, laughing her simple, calming laugh, before backing away, her presence gone from his life in a sudden moment.

Pivoting on his heels, he squared his shoulders at the door before him, feeling the women grab the train of his coat and lift it gently off the ground. There was no more time for things such as emotions or words, it was time he left his old life behind and fulfilled the role destiny gave him.

 

It was a long and winding path from the opposite end of the castle to the chapel, the group taking hidden passages and blocked hallways to ensure no one saw the bride before he was revealed. Each door that opened before him reminded Arthur he was one room closer to the ceremony, each stride bringing a heightened realization he would be meeting the King of his country, and his partner for the rest of his life.

There was no room for thoughts of if they would truly fall in love, or if he would treat him kindly, not when Arthur was going over each step and movement he was expected to make in front of the eyes of every living Royal and Noble. As they finally waited behind the last, intricate door to the church, the women took to excited chattering, their words and final finishes to his clothing a background noise that filled the space between every deafening beat of this heart.

Inside, the music began to play, and Arthur could hear the shuffling of every person standing at attention, waiting for him. Once at all sides of him, the ladies attending backed away, camouflaging themselves against the walls as the doors began to open. Never was there a time where he wished so desperately for a familiar hand to hold, or a kind word of encouragement, but he knew this was his time to rely on no one other than himself.

When the doors were fully swung open, the bright light of the afternoon sun struck Arthur in a brilliance of colors. The magnificent stained glass above the alter scattered blues, reds, and yellows across the rows of pews, momentarily blinding the unprepared boy. Each lavish pane told the well-known story of the founding of the Spades Kingdom, the tale unfolding across every wall of the church.

Arthur made sure he did not squint in the light, acutely aware of the sea of eyes now focused completely on him. There were a few gasps, slight murmurs, and even one or two claps from the more dedicated Nobles in the crowd as he stepped out onto the deep blue carpet. Their faces were only a blur as Arthur focused his attention completely forward, the music rising around him and reaching a crescendo with his movements.

And below the dazzling colors of the alter and glass, the infamous Alfred stood, turned to face his bride with full regard. On his head sat a crown of sapphire and ruby, having been officially crowned before Arthur was to appear. He had an almost silly smile on his lips, one the approaching blonde had not expected to see, and the full handsomeness of his features truly hit Arthur as he got closer.

His heart seemed to jump and miss a beat, surely from the pressure he was under, surely.

In the frontmost pew he saw his mother and brother, Lila behind them with a supportive smile on her face, sending the concentrated boy as many blessings as she could. He passed them without so much as a twitch, and reached the steps to the altar.

Alfred had reached out his hand, waiting for Arthur to grab on so he could assist him up the steps. Immediately, Arthur realized the King would be able to feel the anxious sweat that had accumulated on his hands, and he began to internally panic.

Alfred’s shoulders seemed to shake in a suppressed laughter, and Arthur felt the once complementary blush on his face burst into a vibrant red. He was sure he had not made a single external reaction to his minor dread. This made him even more dismayed, and possibly a bit annoyed, but he kept the surface of his face utterly serene.

He set his hand in Alfred’s, and instead of looking up in his eyes as the gap between them closed, Arthur kept his head bent, watching his feet make the ascent up the small stairs. Alfred’s hands were rough and tan, a far cry from Arthur’s complete pallor and blemish-free skin, but they were not unpleasant.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he looked up to make eye contact with the priest who was officiating the ceremony, curtsying when he nodded. There was a silence as everyone positioned themselves to listen closely to the exciting ritual about to unfold. Many of them, unless they were riddled with wrinkles, had not seen a crowning or royal marriage once in their lives, and the enthusiasm was a hum in the air.

“Arthur Kirkland, do you swear to uphold your duties as the Queen of Spades, in devotion to your King and the peoples, thinking only of the perseverance and prosperity of our great Kingdom?” His voice was a boom of authority, and Arthur felt the expectation sit on his shoulders like the weight of one million diamonds set in gold.

“I do swear, with the wholeness of my heart,” Arthur’s voice rang clear, thankfully without any quiver or sign of doubt. The priest nodded, and moved to lift the Queen’s crown from its plush pillow, thousands of years of history in his frail hands.

Arthur pulled his hand away from Alfred and kneeled, head bowed in complete reverence to the object being placed upon his head. It was smaller than the King’s crown, with jewels cut in tinier facets, but it held no less presence or power.

It was weighty, but Arthur’s neck did not buckle, holding the precious decoration on his head carefully. When it was fully placed upon him, only one thought resonated in his brain,

‘God, please give me strength, for I am too young to rule.’

When he stood, he looked to his right at Alfred, closer now than they ever had been. He had lifted his hand once more, wearing the same lopsided smile as Arthur placed his hand back where it had been. The two held an unreadable glance, Arthur mostly taking the precious moment to map out the features of a face he only just came to know, but would now see intimately for every remaining day of his life.

“The vow between the King and the Queen is to be held as highly as the Crown, their love essential to the success of our Kingdom. From this day forward, you are one together, and each decision made will not be that of two, separate people, but of one Sovereign,” As the lengthy ceremony dragged on, Arthur became embarrassed by the words, doing his best to keep the eye contact he had initiated with Alfred.

Out of nowhere, Alfred brought his free hand up to Arthur’s face, making the other blink and retreat his head only slightly. His fingers continued on, unfazed, pressing against his hair to feel the small flower that sat tucked behind his ear, one Arthur had forgotten about wholly up until this point.

Arthur’s face erupted into a blush again, something about the lack of words spoken between them making the affectionate gesture all the more difficult for him to bear. Alfred laughed at his reaction, and the script being spoken over their public interaction ended as his lips came together in a smile.

Now was the time for them to cement their bond to each other with a kiss, and Arthur found himself in no place ready to kiss this man before him. It was his first kiss, and nothing about this ceremony made him any more sure about their marriage, or the role he was to take. Of course, the reality of him becoming Queen made his heart swell to the point of bursting, but being the pessimist he naturally was, it only caused the anxiety in his brain reach a climactic vibration that buzzed unbearably in his thoughts.

He turned to face Alfred completely, the train of his jacket wrapping around his feet and cascading down the stairs. Initiating the kiss would be much too presumptuous on his part, even ignoring the fact that he could never find the audacity to do it. Luckily, Alfred was quick to act, moving his face closer toward him, but not leaning down to cause their lips to meet. Instead, he simply placed a chaste kiss against Arthur’s forehead, holding onto either side of his head gently with his hands. It was quick enough that Arthur had no time to react, and by the time he blinked in surprise, the kiss was over and Alfred had pulled back.

The reaction was instant, a cacophonous roar of voices exploding when the two of them separated. Every person in attendance burst into applause, their voices together louder than anything Arthur had ever been enveloped by. Arthur glanced to the front to see his mother clapping in a composed fashion, while Lila covered her face as the tears fell freely from her eyes, their noises blending in with the clamor around them.

Flowers rained down on the couple as they made their trip back down the aisle, together this time. Roses, bellflowers, anemones, and more were being plucked and tossed at the pair, petals landing at their feet and in their hair, some settling on their crowns next to the vibrant gems.

Alfred still had a hold of Arthur’s hand, guiding him as they slowly made their way between the people grasped out for them. Alfred smiled at every person he passed, even reaching out for some to touch their hands. It was entirely inappropriate, but no one seemed alarmed, the lack of protocol clearly his charming point to all of those that adored him.

When the men finally made their way past the doors and the noise was shut behind it, they were immediately separated, the tailors surrounding Arthur once more and the advisors pulling Alfred to the side. Arthur glanced over at his husband when their hands separated, and saw him receiving handshakes with one of the brightest smiles had ever witnessed a person wear. Alfred caught sight of him staring before Arthur could turn away, and dropped his grin into a small, gentle smirk. He approached the blonde, and all of the women around him backed away, bowing in an ordered line, even more rigid than they had been with Arthur.

“Arthur, did you enjoy the ceremony?” It was an odd question, and Arthur quirked his eyebrows a bit at it, but saved any retort in favor of politeness. This was his husband, after all.

“It was very beautiful, Your Majesty,” he probably should not have called him that, he realized instantly after saying it, because Alfred burst into laughter. Arthur’s face turned red, cursing the fact that his politeness had somehow caused him trouble for once.

“You don’t have to act so stuffy, Alfred is fine,” Alfred was smirking down at him, and Arthur found himself extremely annoyed, wanting to land a jab in his side to make him stop. Just a small one, nothing too damaging.

“I’ll see you at the banquet then, My Queen,” Alfred smiled at the ladies behind him, all of them giggling while keeping their faces hidden. He bowed as he backed away, walking off with his advisors clamoring at his sides. Arthur watched him go, feeling utterly miffed, his body flushed at the aggravating interaction, and the proximity of his newly-wed spouse.

When Alfred disappeared, the ladies went to work, humbly reaching for the crown on his head, explaining it needed to be returned to its protective glass box. Arthur bent his knees, letting two sets of hands remove the ancient heirloom from atop his hair. Petals fell from it as it was cautiously inched away, Arthur watching the gleaming stones settle onto a cushy pillow, before it was whisked out of his line of sight.

The ladies bundled up his train, shaking all the excess flowers from it while the younger women ran about picking them up from the ground. Arthur watched them all scatter about, preparing to move as they now needed to change him into his outfit for the traditional reception.

Arthur thought it was wasteful, having two, equally lavish outfits for one day, but he was not one to question custom. They finally all moved in unison when they were ready, a low chatter emitting from the still-blushing girls as they discussed the ‘ever so romantic’ ceremony from behind Arthur’s back.

Sure, to the untrained eye it was absolutely romantic, the flowers, the kiss on the forehead, it was a fairytale in the making. But it all became bare in the face of the truth that Arthur did not know this man at all, and handsome as he might be, he was still a stranger that suddenly he was meant to share a bed with for the rest of his life.

Arthur was still as they re-dressed him, and he remained silent this time, without a friend to speak to. His outfit for the evening was darker, and thankfully less cumbersome, the train of his jacket this time only reaching to the floor. A small blue hat was placed on his head in the place of a crown, pinned on with flowers and tiny crystals, making it twinkle in the now low-light of evening.

He twisted while looking at himself in the mirror, watching the quilted fabric slide across the floor. Yes, even now that he was officially a Queen, he looked frighteningly the same, not a single thing different about himself. Whether that was good or bad, Arthur did not know.

When they finished, the ladies followed behind him, the oldest in front guiding him through the castle silently, to the grand ballroom. The hallways were empty, and less nervous this time, Arthur took the opportunity to admire the stylish, yet antique interior of the castle. It was truly a place of splendor, walls and walls of paintings and glistening chandeliers speaking to wealth insurmountable. Arthur was used to living in homes that functioned more as museums than comforting residences, but a palace was truly on another level.

As the doors to the ballroom approached, the leading woman curtsied, stopping Arthur in his tracks.

“Now, we will part. I hope we have served you to the fullest of your needs, Your Majesty,” she glanced over at the rest of the girls, all of them scrambling to bow themselves as she did. Arthur looked at the large group, unsure how to address someone he would likely never see again, but one who deserved respect either way.

“Your work was remarkable. I will always be in your debt for making my wedding so memorable,” Arthur nodded, and all of the young women gasped, turning to each other to let out unrestrained grins. This was the power he had now as Queen, a single compliment, even one made out of politeness, could light up an entire person’s world. They would tell this story to their children, how the Queen of Spades had actually praised their work, and it would live on in their family as the ultimate word-of-mouth tale for generations.

“We are not deserving of your praise, Your Majesty,” the old woman motioned at the other girls to stop their chattering and bow respectfully, and Arthur only smiled slightly, wishing his work for the day was finished alongside them. Their attitudes had changed from deathly serious to now exuberant, all of their meticulous work finally paying off, the only thing to worry about now the session of story-telling and babbling that would fill their night. Everyone would have a different version of how Alfred kissed his Queen, only a few eyes able to see through the crack in the large door during the lengthy ceremony. They would argue and gossip, discussing who the Queen had _clearly_ favored, and whose work had been the most prominent. A simple existence when put in comparison to the night Arthur had ahead of him.

From behind the thrilled girls, a group of young men appeared, all rowdily whooping and shoving into each other roughly with their shoulders. In the center of them was Alfred, attempting to hold off their celebratory punches with his hands. When one of them noticed the women, and Arthur, ahead, they pointed, all straightening up, but keeping their lax, careless attitude about them.

“Madams,” Alfred addressed them all, and they bowed, but did not make an effort to conceal their giggles. His friends made sure to greet each of the blushing flowers before them, while Alfred turned to Arthur, approaching close enough that Arthur had to, annoyingly, crane his neck backward to look up at him.

“Arthur,” he stuck his hand out, palm up, and Arthur lightly laid his own hand on top of it, watching him bring it up to his mouth, and kiss it, but not let it go. “Are you ready for our first dance?”

“I’ve practiced well enough, I believe,” Arthur did not mention how he had to completely relearn every dance in the ‘female’ position, now assumed to take the following role as a Queen much smaller than his King. Alfred found the veiled confidence amusing, laughing in Arthur’s face while the shorter man brought his eyebrows together at his offbeat response.

“Well, I hope you can keep up then,” Alfred whispered as he pulled Arthur to the door, ignoring the scoff that came from his husband as they positioned themselves side-by-side. The excitement in the room was rising, the mingling groups behind them flirting and laughing with each other at ease, even as the older woman attempted to corral her girls and keep them in line. Everyone in the room was young, and enthusiastic, ready to spend the night dancing, drinking, and chatting, the formality of the wedding ceremony now tossed aside in favor for the merrymaking of a ball.

That was, everyone except for the happy couple standing hand-in-hand, who were still not permitted to be ease. They still had hours of rigidly studied dance and formal introductions to take part in. Arthur glanced up at Alfred, seeing no sign of worry or nervousness on his face. The blonde turned his head to glance at his friends when they called his name, face breaking out into a grin as they waved for him.

“We’ll be out on the town while you enjoy the company of powdered, old women, _Your Majesty_ ,” one bowed in mockery, the other men erupting in laughter, along with Alfred. The tailors were all taken-aback by the harsh speech, and the sarcastic tone of his words, looking around with fading smiles. This man could be killed, right here and now, for such insolent words to a newly-crowned King.

But Alfred only continued snickering, flashing them a thumbs-up, clearly taking no offense from the joke. Arthur watched the preposterous scene, the laughter ceasing when his eyes passed over the group, all of them bowing sincerely now. So, the King was easy to pick on, but the Queen was the one to face with total seriousness and gravity? Was that not… slightly backwards?

Of course, it was not uncommon for Arthur to be told he was stuffy, and even fear-inducing to those who were beneath him, and did not know him. Once they did become close to him, however, all of those feelings seemed to disappear. He had always had mixed feelings about that.

Absentmindedly, he wondered what Alfred thought of him, whether he was scared, unimpressed, or possibly intrigued? Based on the way he acted, from the ceremony to his brusque friends, it did not seem Alfred was fearful of many things, especially how he was being perceived. Arthur had heard stories and rumors of course, about his uncharacteristic love of physical sports and rather eccentric attitude, but it paled in comparison to the true… ‘splendor’ of the King.

“Your friends won’t be attending the ball?” Arthur questioned, as the crowd of people began to leave, the forward boys attempting to convince the women to accompany them for a night in the pub. Alfred shook his head, still holding Arthur’s hand levitated between them.

“Most of them aren’t of noble blood,” he said, and Arthur could not contain the unbelieving noise that left his mouth. He attempted to cover it with a cough into his gloved hand, sensing Alfred’s amusement at his response.

“So, you brought your commoner friends into the castle, on your wedding day?” Arthur should have politely covered the distaste and disbelief in his words, but having known Alfred for only the small amount of time he did, he knew it would not matter.

“Yes, I did bring my friends to celebrate my wedding day,” the way he said it, it made it matter-of-fact, and completely sane. But there were protocols and precedents to follow, and this type of behavior was, well, Arthur could not imagine a King doing such a thing.

“You Nobles love to idealize the rules and regulations of the Royalty, but haven’t a clue that everything functions exactly how I want it to,” Alfred’s words were so prideful, but his tone typical, exactly the way a Monarch should speak. “If I want my ‘commoner’ friends in the castle, at any time, they will be there. _That_ is Royal life, Arthur, and I hope you can start to want things like a normal person. My Queen will have anything he asks for.”

“L-Like a ‘normal person’?!” Arthur couldn’t contain his enraged response, the last statement putting a blush on his face, though he was convinced it was easily covered by his other reactions. The doors before the pair creaked to signal their opening, and while Arthur wanted to continue to make it clear how angered he was at the inappropriate comment, he knew if the party guests were to see a Queen berating his newlywed husband of a few hours, the rest of the night, and the next 100 years, would not go smoothly.

Arthur turned his face away from Alfred, focusing forward and adjusting his stance to perfect straightness. When the doors swung open, they were surrounded on all sides, everyone leaning in with unmasked eagerness to get a glimpse of the couple. People were standing on their toes, and those on the other end of the Grand Ballroom used their decorated Opera glasses to magnify their sight.

                There was a clear path for them to follow, barely wide enough to fit through side by side with all of the impatient leaning and shoving that was happening. Fearlessly, Alfred took the first step, lightly tugging on Arthur’s hand to force him out, feeling slightly like a parent pulling a child in a temper tantrum out of their room.

               Arthur did not resist much, only enough for Alfred to notice, but not so strongly that it was visible to the hundreds of people watching. As they traveled from the lowly lit hallway to the chandeliered brightness of the ballroom, Arthur kept his expression demure, pretending he could not hear the whispers that surrounded him.

_“The Queen’s outfit is just marvelous!”_

_“It’s a new design modeled in the Capital you know, they say the longer tailcoat will catch on in everyday fashion.”_

_“Pay attention, the King is looking this way! Smile now…”_

_“They truly make the most wonderful couple I have ever seen.”_

At the central axis of the room, there was an open circle, everyone closing in behind the Royal couple once they reached it. They were completely locked in, the expectant gazes and quickly flitting fans functioning as walls on all sides.

Separating, they turned to each other, backing away a few steps in perfect unison. Stopping in time together, they took their bows, Arthur curtsying first, while Alfred followed him with an uncommonly, but ceremoniously, large bow.

The music began, the wigged orchestra taking to playing the traditional Waltz of the Spades Kingdom. The pair approached, lifting their hands until they touched vertically, beginning to circle each other in time with the cellos notes.

Everyone on the outside became a blur, and Arthur found his sight limited only to the pair of hands hovering closely, and his husband’s face. Alfred was smiling at him, but Arthur found it neither charming nor attractive. Well, it was attractive, the man was annoyingly attractive to the point where any face he made was aesthetically pleasing, but personality wise he was already on Arthur’s last nerve.

Alfred was blissfully unaware to the fact that he had already managed to antagonize his new Queen, or simply did not care, because when their slow circling ended, he wasted no time in pulling Arthur to his chest for the remainder of their dance. Arthur let out a small, barely audible gasp when Alfred wrapped his arm around his waist, their hands interlocking out of practiced experience.

That was _certainly_ not how the dance was supposed to go, the swift, vulgar movements taking away all of the restraint and beauty the waltz should hold. They should have backed away from each other first, then approached for their connected dance, but Alfred had bypassed the movements all together and taken to leading Arthur around the floor in a twirling waltz.

Alfred was a strong lead, and Arthur could have lifted his feet from the ground with it all ending the same. He did not, however, and used his own steps as a sort of silent resistance to the skilled movements of his partner. He was still irritated, and Alfred needed to know.

Honestly, Arthur would have assumed Alfred was a blunder when it came to dancing, probably too childish to learn the specifically timed steps. He was though, surprisingly, talented, his rhythm clearly coming from within as he traversed the floor with accurate timing. It had taken Arthur years to perfect that sort of skill, having no rhythm himself, but years of experience put them on the same page.

It was a magical dance, one that never ceased to amaze those that watched, the twirling and precisely measured steps creating a beautiful scene that seemed to glide across the floor. The younger women were fanning their flushed faces rapidly, attempting to pay attention, all while the King captured their hearts with his movements. Even the older members of the audience were mesmerized, the youth and vitality of a young King and Queen seeming to renew everyone’s spirit for the Monarchy.

The whirling pair slowed at the center of their floor, finally coming to a halt with the music, still in each other’s arms. There was a brief moment where the last, ringing note of the song played out, and there was no other sound, just the two of them, faces close enough that the heat of their breath mingled.

Arthur had a difficult time keeping a straight face, unable to, but wishing he could at least cover the blush raging across his cheeks. Alfred’s face seemed to have gotten rather red as well, catching Arthur off guard, as it could not have been from any sort of physical stress. He had felt the muscles the man had built himself.

Alfred backed away first, another surprise as well, bowing as the crowd erupted into applause around them. Some were dabbing at the tears that had formed in their eyes, and others were clapping so intensely that the jewels of their bracelets were clacking together audibly.

                Arthur took to his curtsy, holding onto the sides of his heavy overcoat as he went down. The cheering continued as the couple reunited, hands elevated again with Arthur’s gloved one sitting on the top. They waited silently for the crowd to tire of their ovation, but it never seemed to come, everyone in attendance still applauding as vehemently as they had when they began for over two minutes.

Alfred finally took a step forward, the clapping only lessening slightly as he led Arthur toward a specific person in the circle. Arthur took the moment to glance up at Alfred’s face, a small smirk on his lips.

“How was that for keeping up?” Spitefulness was Arthur’s worst trait, well one of them, according to his mother, and if she had heard what he said to the King, Arthur was not sure he could guarantee the safety of his own life. She was not within hearing range though, so Arthur took the time to delight in his snide remark.

Completely out of character, Alfred did not respond, or even look down at Arthur, moving as if he had not heard the comment at all. Arthur was sure nothing could have been worse than the King’s infuriating remarks, but his silence was even more deadly. Could it be… Arthur’s breath smelled? They had just been so close to each other, could it have possibly been so offending even Alfred was appalled?

Arthur coughed into his gloved hand quickly, cursing internally when he smelled nothing as he did. He could not spend any more time worrying about it, as it would become noticeable to everyone watching, and he instead focused his attention forward when Alfred stopped moving.

Before Alfred stood his twin brother, Matthew, who was now officially the Prince of Spades. While he and Alfred stood at the same height, Matthew was noticeably of a smaller build, his long hair further setting him apart from his broad older brother. He had kind eyes, the type that seemed as if they told you they would do anything you asked of them, just with a small sparkle.

 Arthur was sure he must have met Matthew during the previous time he had met Alfred, but for some reason, had absolutely no memory of the man at all, child or not. It was utterly embarrassing, but Arthur was sure he would be able to hide it well.

 Alfred’s typical smile finally returned when Matthew bowed at the Royal couple, lowering himself to a respectful stance, but not entirely, as he was a Royal himself. The woman next to him curtsied as well, the wide expanse of her skirts forcing her to bend forward somewhat, the buxomness of her chest spilling out from her top.

Arthur knew it was entirely inappropriate to stare at a woman’s chest, and frankly he had no interest in such things, but the sheer size of her… assets was enough to capture even his attention. Not in appreciation or objectification, of course, but in actual awe. He had never in his life seen a person with such large breasts, and they bordered on looking uncomfortable.

He hastily pulled his eyes away when the pair turned to him, lowering themselves once again in the presence of the Queen. It was not necessary for Arthur to return with a curtsy, given his status was now above them and it was his wedding day, but he still gave them a small, introductory bow, earning receptive praise from the throngs of guests observing the Royal interaction.

Without a word, the woman turned to her attendant, carefully taking two crowns of flowers from her hands. They were weaved with four leaf clovers and various azure flowers, the petals crisp and fragrant even from a few feet away. She approached Alfred, lifting her hands to set the first wreath on his head. Alfred bent his head lightly, his height making it almost impossible for her to reach the top of his head on her own. When the crown was securely on his head, the pair hugged firmly, Alfred even lifting the woman off of the ground for a second, causing her to giggle.

When she was safely on her feet again, she pinched Alfred’s cheek in a motherly manner, before turning to Arthur. It was not necessary for Arthur to tilt his head, as he did not stand much taller than her, but he did anyway, as a signal that she could place the flowers on his head. She rested it on his hair gently, careful not to upset the petite hat pinned there, letting out a small ‘Ah!’ when she succeeded.

Arthur nodded at her in thanks when she backed away, but felt the air leave his body in a surprised huff when she threw her arms around him. Arthur was bad enough at hugging and emotional displays with those he was close with, but to have a random woman embrace him so tightly in front of hundreds of people was really putting his ineptitude on display.

Well, she was not some ‘random woman’, Arthur knew exactly who she was. She was Yekaterina Braginskaya, a former Princess of the Club Kingdom, and now Princess of Spades. During the Eastern War, she had been married to Matthew, cementing an alliance between the two most powerful kingdoms, who would have been at odds, had it not been for her diplomatic nuptial.

In short, as long as she remained alive, peace would be guaranteed between the often-antagonistic Clubs and Spades kingdoms.

Arthur was also aware he owed her his thanks, more than he owed anyone else in the hall. In the Spades Kingdom, a Queen could be traditionally male or female, as long as they could fulfill their duties to their whole ability. However, unless there was a female of Royal lineage able to produce an heir to the throne, someone like Arthur would never have been able to assume the role, with no way to offer a Royal heir. That made male Queens rare, but not completely unheard of, though it had been quite some time since one had been granted permission to the throne.

So, without Yekaterina in the position to give the illustrious family a healthy successor, Arthur could have never become Queen, and he could not have become the unprecedently anticipated ruler he was expected to be.

Arthur pat her back awkwardly, hoping it would convince her to release her vice grip on his body. Keeping her hands on his shoulders, she pulled away marginally, only to be able to look him in the eyes. There were actual tears caught on her long eyelashes, and Arthur was at a loss for words as her ample chest pressed against his flat one.

“I am so glad to have a sister finally, Your Majesty!” She leaned in to hug Arthur again, and the man blinked in bewilderment. A sister? He was the Queen but… he was not a woman. Nevertheless, he gave her back a comforting pat again with his hands, feeling her squeeze him tighter in response.

Laughs and ‘awe’s surrounded them until finally she backed away, still using her hands to attempt to wipe away the large droplets of tears that kept spilling from her eyes. Clearly, everyone was aware of the Princess’ bizarre emotional displays, everyone except Arthur, who was still reeling from the unexpected interaction.

“H-Here,” Arthur shook himself from his astounded state by reaching into his chest pocket to procure an embroidered handkerchief, holding it out for her to take. She paused her crying as Arthur extended his arm, before beginning to sob again, taking the soft fabric from his hands gently.

“Oh, thank you so much!” She used the cloth to dry her eyes, but tears only seemed to continue to fall, her shoulders shaking in sobs of happiness. Arthur glanced over at Alfred, seeing the amused expression displayed across his face, and the taller man looked over, catching Arthur’s eyes. There was a breathless silence between the pair, lasting only seconds before Matthew called for their attention, softly speaking Arthur’s name.

“Arthur, it is so wonderful to see you again,” he reached out, and Arthur set his fingers in his grip, the man leaning down to place a single kiss on his gloved hand.

Oh, no. Arthur kept a calm countenance, but his response was admittedly lackluster, only a small laugh able to escape him. Matthew continued speaking, covering up the blonde’s embarrassment with, thankfully oblivious, conversation.

“We were only children then, but we got on so well. What, with Alfred running around like a wild dog during a funeral, we were barely able to catch him,” Laughter erupted from the crowd, everyone enjoying reminiscing at the King’s lively childhood. Even Alfred chuckled, but was sure to reach out and flick Matthew’s forehead, the heavy rings of sapphire glittering from each of his fingers.

Matthew was able to dodge it at the last second, but made sure to glare at his brother for the tasteless act. Alfred continued laughing, everyone along with him, covering their mouths properly with their fans, but making sure they were heard. Arthur, however, was not able to join in, as he was unfortunately without any memories of the events Matthew was describing.

“My husband has told me about you, Your Majesty. And I can see that his kind words were more than true,” Yekaterina seemed to have collected herself, though she kept the handkerchief tightly in her grip as if she expected more tears.

“W-Well, I-“ Arthur blinked at the kind couple, “I can only thank you from the bottom of my heart for such a kind welcome.”

Matthew placed a hand on his wife’s back, the woman excitedly turning to share a pleased smile with him. The pair were endearing, if Arthur was honest, but almost a bit too cordial in his mind. Arthur preferred rigid formality and strict expectations, he found that he functioned better when the rules were clear and the loving words were to a minimum. He had expected a certain austerity, and while the castle itself and the wedding ceremony did deliver that, the Court that Alfred had sculpted was far off from his predictions.

It was just as he had said, everything seemed to function in whatever way he, and perhaps his brother, wished it. Balls here were already shaping up to be nowhere near as strict as the ones his mother had threw, and Arthur was coming to dread that he was going to be the laughing-stock of the event, with his overly stringent disposition on obvious display.

He had no idea if Court was so loose simply because it was a young King steering the guidelines, or if it had always been this way, and Arthur was just one of the many Noble’s that had overestimated Royal life, like Alfred had accused him of being.

Someone had attempted to get the attention of Matthew, reaching out to whisper in his ear. The man nodded, turning to his brother with a smile that indicated he would be forcing the man into something his free-spirited self would not enjoy.

“Brother, the Duke of Lambbard and the Count de Bourbon wish to present you with your ascension gifts before any others, if you would allow,” there was a small, sadistic smirk in his speech, one that those with siblings would recognize, both entirely harmless and infuriating to the recipient at once.

Alfred sighed audibly, rolling his eyes at the beginning of his official duties for the night. No one other than those directly next to him would have seen the action, but Arthur still found it childish enough for him to give his arm a light slap with the back of his hand. He had done it without thinking, a learned habit from his upbringing, and Alfred looked over at him with eyes wide in disbelief.

Matthew was chuckling under his breath, hand blocking the smile that spread across his face. Alfred let out a small scoff, and before he could open his mouth, Matthew grabbed onto his arm, pulling him away from his small Queen.

The pair disappeared into the crowd, without officially addressing the onlookers, and Arthur was left seemingly with the duty of dismissing them to their reveling. He turned to face them all, their eyes expectant and their whispers audible.

“I-In honor of the King and Queen, let us spend the night in spirited celebrations at their glorious reign,” before Arthur could even think of the words to speak, the Count of Delafontaine appeared at his side, voice bouncing off the tall walls of the ballroom. “To the King and Queen!”

The man lifted a glass of champagne in his hands, and every person around scrambled to find their own, pulling them off of tables and from trays held by servants. Excitedly, the throng of shimmering glasses were extended into the air, their wide brims catching the glare from candles and shining it across the circle.

“To the King and Queen!” Everyone roared, clinking glasses and eagerly drinking down the alcohol. The Delafontaine turned to Arthur and bowed before sipping from his glass, Arthur nodding first at him, then at the entire crowd.

Arthur thanked the endless onslaught of congratulations and compliments that whirled past him as the once frozen guests began to move around the ballroom freely. Everyone wanted a chance to be close to him, their eyes wandering over his outfit, over his face, both criticizing and admiring every detail they could find about the young, fresh-faced Queen.

“You faced that situation with the utmost grace, Your Majesty,” The Count of Delafontaine spoke out of the side of his mouth, as to not be heard by the people whirling past Arthur. After thanking an elderly woman, who reached out to clasp his hands tightly, Arthur let out a light scoff, peering to the side at the man next to him.

“You hardly gave me a chance to face it at all,” Arthur nodded at two young women who curtsied before him, the pair scuttling off as they giggled and grinned at each other.

“I- I apologize, Your Majesty,” The Count moved to bow in apology, but Arthur raised his hand, signaling it was not necessary. “I have been watching over both of those boys for so long, cleaning up their messes is merely an instinct.”

With a moment of reprieve, Arthur turned his head to look at the man, the flowers framing his head creating a halo of royal blooms.

“And now the King’s messes are mine.”

 

Away from the center of the crowd, as the attendants circled like sharks around the defenseless Queen, Alfred and Matthew escaped from the occupied eyes without trouble. It was a skill honed through years of practice, as capturing some needed solitude was nearly impossible when you were the heirs to the Spades throne, and the pair had years of experience of hiding from nannies and escaping from Royal receptions. Hastily making their way across the room, Alfred made sure to keep his gaze forward and strong, while his brother leaned in to whisper close to him.

“That was a bold move you pulled during the waltz,” Matthew made sure his words did not sound appreciative, not wishing to stroke his brother’s already substantial ego. “But, well…”

“What?” Alfred shot a look over at the blonde as he began to laugh, hand holding his glasses steady as the bouncing of his laughter knocked them down his nose.

“Well, it’s just,” Matthew calmed himself, meeting the King’s irritated eyes, “Arthur is the first person I’ve seen able to handle your recklessness with such ease.”

Alfred made no comment, instead turning away to hide whatever expression painted his face. He was not sure how he looked himself, having rarely experienced the discomfort of whatever it was he felt, but he made sure Matthew caught no sight of it.

Arthur did seem to be a gifted dance partner, his light weight and small frame made him easy to move with, but his steady feet were even more alluring. While he may not have had a natural talent for dance, he certainly had a knack for challenging his partner, and it was the first time Alfred had ever experienced a person willing to step to his haughty display.

On top of that, well…

He smelled wonderful. Like a garden of flowers, but one that held no plants with too obnoxious a scent or flamboyant an appearance. Like a path filled solely with daisies, or a simple swimming pond of hyacinths. It was different and clean, a far cry from the perfumed men and women of the Court, who seemed to rely solely on the overload of the senses to display their best qualities.

He had not noticed it at all until they had been so close in their waltz, the incense of the chapel masking all aromas before. Alfred remained smooth on his feet, but with each spin and twist, Arthur both confronted him and caught his attention, until Alfred could ignore it no longer.

This was ridiculous, what was he even thinking about? This was a night for wine and dancing, not to be stuck thinking about a formal interaction that carried with it only the weight of its ritualistic necessity. While it might not be appropriate for even Alfred to dance with other women tonight, he was sure he would find companionship in others who would offer better conversation than his stodgy husband. Arthur was already proving to be no fun whatsoever, and Alfred knew he could find more invigorating interaction with others, who would actually laugh at his jokes and agree with his statements, regardless of what he said.

Stopping unexpectedly on his toes, he reached for a glass of champagne from a passing caterer, finishing the entire drink in one gulp. The startled servant bowed reverently as he set the glass back on the tray, taking another along with him for good measure.

Matthew watched with exasperation, attempting to remind the King that alongside merrymaking, he had many other official obligations to tend to tonight. But when Alfred finished the second glass casually, it became even clearer he would be just as stubbornly careless tonight as he was any other.

While Alfred moved on to be taken into the hands of his advisors and admirers, Arthur was finally at a rest, seeming to have entertained everyone at least once until they were satisfied with breaking off into their groups of conversations. He let out a short breath of air, only able to relax inwardly for a few seconds as suddenly his arm was pulled into the voluptuous chest of his sister-in-law.

“Shall we take part in the next dance, Your Majesty?” Her blue-green eyes were wide and awaiting, and while Arthur found her sudden physical contact to be unnerving, he knew that her company and dance would keep him distracted from being the object of everyone’s curious attention. Plus, it was simply bad manners to turn down a woman’s invitation.

“I would be honored, Yekaterina,” the woman giggled at the mention of her name, waving her hand in front of her face in dismissal.

“Oh, please call me Katyusha, it is what all of my family calls me,” Arthur watched her face closely before concurring, lifting his arm in the air.

“Well, then, please call me Arthur.”

Katyusha paused, seeming to contemplate if she ever _could_ call the Queen by his name, before nodding, wrapping her arm around Arthur’s with a smile.

“Of course, Your-… Arthur.”

The pair shared laughs as the current song ended, those dancing turning to each other to bow in completion. As the next composition was being prepared, Arthur and Katyusha made their way onto the floor, causing a stir as they did.

When the Queen entered the dance floor, so did everyone else, both young and old scrambling to acquire a spot closest to the Royal duo. While a circle of respect was left around them, as to avoid any unsightly collisions of elbows with the imperial couple, all of the lucky dancers made sure they could keep their eyes on them, eager to see how the Queen would act in a more lax, informal dance.

An Allemande* was about to be played, and as the first notes were being bowed, the dancers all clapped and shuffled into lines, stretching on either side of Arthur and Katyusha. Of course, the pair did not connect themselves with either, sharing the dance only with themselves, as was appropriate, separate from the rest.

The men on one side bowed to their partners, Arthur swinging his arm in front of him in a grand motion. The women responded with a curtsy, lowering themselves as their skirts ballooned around them.

When the violins began, the pairs approached each other, stepping in time in small circles, twisting around once before their hands came together. Katyusha took the first spin, arm held in the air as Arthur created a bridge beneath their interconnected hands for her to twirl under, the wideness of her grand dress causing only slight discomfort as she passed beneath. She was smiling when she faced Arthur again, and he found himself smiling as well when he copied her movements and spun under her arm.

As the intricate dance unfolded, partners were traded and changed down the line, every person finding themselves confronted with a new face with each step taken. Laughs and cheers emanated with each surprise, the carefree prancing masking an undercurrent of precise steps and hops.

Arthur and Katyusha remained in their single partnership, but did not find boredom at the repetition of their dancing. They performed rosettes with their hands intertwined, before separating to glide around each other, Katyusha jumping and seeming to elude Arthur as he sashayed just steps behind her, the dance illustrating the chase and catch of courtship.

The pair found themselves truly having fun. While Katyusha was not particularly skilled at dance, tripping over her heels occasionally and seeming to fumble steps, her concentrated faces penetrated by friendly smiles when she caught Arthur’s gaze kept the man easily entertained.

When the melody ended, the pair remained on the floor to continue their dancing, moving through minuets* together without ever leaving the center of the ballroom. They easily caught the attention of those around, every person turning immediately to them to applaud at the completion of each dance.

Such amusing and casual dances were rarely ever allowed at Kirkland receptions, only in the wee hours of the morning, after all of the wine had been consumed and the children were put to bed. Naturally, Arthur was never allowed to participate, but as he grew, he was taught the steps in case he should need them at any point in his life.

And now, he was using them with vigor, genuinely enjoying himself as he promenaded around with Katyusha as his partner. And to think, he had not consumed any alcohol.

They bowed at each other for the sixth time, and Arthur was entirely ready to proceed into the next dance, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was still attempting to catch his breath when he turned to see Matthew looking down at him, his violet eyes bright behind his glasses.

“I apologize for the interruption,” his hand moved to Arthur’s arm as he bent down to whisper in his ear, “The time’s come to prepare the Royal bed.”

Arthur froze, looking down at his shoes, before up at Katyusha, her perplexed gaze giving him no solace. Nodding, he backed away from Matthew, his hand falling from his arm as Arthur took a few unsure steps to the side.

He had barely got to enjoy the reception, let alone drink anything, and now he was… Well now, he was about to head into something that frightened him even more than any of his newly assumed duties.

Now, he was expected to consummate his marriage.

“I-I fear our time has come to an end,” he took Katyusha’s hand and kissed her fingers respectfully, the quiver in his voice annoyingly audible. The woman took both of his hands into hers, the tiny drops of sweat that had formed around her hairline dotting her face.

“Already? We barely got to enjoy the dancing! Oh, and you haven’t tried the pastries that were prepared-“

“Unfortunately, Arthur must prepare to go to bed,” Matthew attempted to quiet his clearly unaware wife, an uncomfortable expression on his face. She looked between the two for a brief second, before gasping, her hands flying to her face to cover the shocked position of her mouth. Quickly, she reached out for Arthur’s hands again, squeezing them harder this time, a determined look on her face.

“Arthur…” her eyes were burning with almost maternal support, her mouth pulled into a resolute tremor. “Good luck.”

Arthur nodded, already feeling a heat crawl up his back, covering his once smiling face with a vibrant redness. Two women approached him, curtsying before reaching for his arms, holding onto them in case he should faint in fear or shock. In a small fit of irritation, he shook them away, unable to handle the feeling of their hands on him.

“I-I’m fine,” they lowered their heads in concession, instead opting to lead him from the floor and to a secret door opened at the edge of the room. Only a few had noticed the interaction, most thankfully taking the moment of rest taken by the orchestra to refresh themselves with champagne and sweets, keeping the man from further public humiliation.

As Arthur retreated from the floor against his will, he glanced over his shoulder to see Katyusha locking arms with Matthew, her once serious face now melted into a perky grin. The pair made their way out of his sight, and Arthur let his final view of the banquet fade away into candle-lit darkness as he entered the hidden hallway he was to take in concealment to the Royal bedroom.

More women awaited him in the darkness, each offering apologies as they plucked different pieces of clothing from his body. One reached for his crown of flowers, while another pulled the gloves from his hand, more hands reaching up from behind him to unpin the dainty hat from his head. By the time they had finished their shuffling march through the dark obscurity, Arthur emerged from the other side missing all of his accessories, and the heavy overcoat that had once sat on his shoulders.

He entered into a steamy room containing merely a claw-footed tub, and a chemise draped across a golden chair. Only two women remained in the room, the rest ducking back into the hallway and disappearing with the clink of the door settling back into the wall.

Arthur had been bathed and cleansed by others his entire life, so he did not resist when they reached for his garments to remove them all from his body. Of course, being that they were unfamiliar people, he felt naturally self-conscious, but being Queen more than assured that the secrets of his body would never be spoken off.

Arthur moved through the subsequent undressing and bath in a disconnected haze, half uncomfortable at being so revealed to random strangers, half pleading for the moment to never end. With every button they undid, and every fold of his clothing, the time lurched forward, moving him closer to the true apex of the night.

The wedding had wracked his nerves, meeting Alfred had given him slight stress, but the consummation of the marriage, that made every single hair on his body stand on end.

As he sat in the heated water, the sleeves of his bathing robe bloated around him, rising to the surface in their white innocence. He wished to stay submerged for as long as he could, but eventually the time came for his legs to be shaved, and he sat up in a poor attempt to give the women better access.

Before he could even move to fix the mistake he had made, the door he had walked through popped open from the wall again, his stomach falling out of his body at the entry of the person who ducked through it.

“M-Mother?” Arthur immediately threw his hands around his shoulders, before they then splashed underwater, unsure how to cover himself in front of the unwelcome visitor. The woman surveyed the room slowly, before she set her eyes on Arthur, no amusement crossing her face.

“Oh, I gave birth to you, I’ve seen everything you’re trying to hide,” that statement did not prove to be calming in any sense, and Arthur still tried to cover himself to the best of his ability.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur was far past masking the unhappiness in his voice, his mother ignoring him and instead favoring to sit in the chair. She waved her hands at the attendants, both backing away with heads bowed to leave the two to speak.

“My friends who stood close at the banquet says it appeared you were being disagreeable to the King,” Arthur frowned at her words, slipping back into the water that still floated warm around his body. “Are you trying to destroy everything we have worked for?”

“I was not being disagreeable, the man is juvenile,” Arthur’s lips were close to the water, and he sunk deeper when he finished his sentence, it rising up to his nose.

“No, you are the one being juvenile,” the older woman continued her chiding as Arthur filled his ears with water, scented petals floating around his head while her words garbled. “Have you learned nothing from your mistakes?”

No, he had not. Even if he had, she would say he had not, so regardless of the truth, that was what it would be. Her scolding lasted over ten more minutes, before her lips finally came together in a settled position, and Arthur lifted his head from underneath the water, the ends of his hair dripping against his skin.

“You are a worrisome child, but you are not dull. I trust you know what comes next?” Arthur looked away from her, unable to meet his mother’s eyes when she eluded to such a thing. “When I was married to your father, during our first bedding, I-“

“Ew! Mother, please! I don’t need to hear that!” Arthur threw his hands up to cover his ears, splashing water from the bathtub onto the marble floors. His mother flinched as some flew past her, before sighing, her hands smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt.

“Arthur, you have no experience whatsoever in romance, and keeping the attention of a man as powerful as the King is no easy task,” the cracks between Arthur’s fingers let her words into his ears, causing him to swallow roughly, “I do not regret teaching you the importance of purity, but I am afraid I have failed to prepare you for the realities of married life.

“Your position here is never certain, as you do not possess the ability to give the King a child. While you have the intellect and grace to preform Queenly duties with more decorum than any other woman at Court, the truth is that those obligations fall short in comparison to your need to entertain and please the King.”

“I never asked for this,” Arthur spoke when she took a moment of pause, the harshness of his words surprising even the speaker. He had not meant to say that, but in the onslaught of uncomfortable truths, the sentence had slipped out.

His mother took a minute to stand, pushing herself up with assistance from the back of the chair. The servants rushed to her side in an effort to support her, but she gestured them away, pulling herself together on her own. Approaching the bathtub, she gazed down at Arthur, the blonde sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, not looking up.

“You took vows during your wedding, do you not remember?” She did not wait for his response, instead reaching out to run a hand through his damp hair. “You vowed to value the love you would share with your King just as much as you would your duty to your kingdom. Those words were not said only in show.”

Arthur pulled himself together even tighter, his chin sitting on his knees as he listened to her words. He knew what he had vowed to, he did not take such an action lightly. But, devotion and sex… He had never associated the two. Devotion to his King and devotion to his land, he had always had those, it was never a question of if he did not.

But going from never having kissed another person, to sharing his body with the King of Spades, it was one colossal leap to make in a day. And his mother seemed to have realized this, as she continued her calming massage of his head, before pinching his chin so he would look up at her finally.

“Life is not always flowers and finery, but being a Kirkland has never been about believing that it was. You have worked for your position, as has our family from the beginning of its roots. The sacrifices you make, and the risks you take, it is all for the future of your children, and their children, until the day this great monarchy ends and the stars fall,” Arthur’s eyes were wide and childlike, and she rubbed her thumb across his cheek in affection at the familiar sight.

After a few more seconds, she backed away, leaving Arthur to soak in the water and her words. Without another comment, she turned to leave the room, exiting through the same door she entered. When her presence was almost gone, she stuck her head back into the room, causing Arthur to jump.

“And, if at any time, should the King seem dispirited, or lacking enthusiasm, it could be fixed by taking your finger and-“

“Okay, Mother! That’s enough!” Arthur once again plugged his ears, the woman sighing before leaving for good, the door settling shut behind her.

Arthur could not meet the eyes of the attendants as they returned to his side, this time reaching for his legs on their own. He was silent as they lathered his skin, before carefully bringing the fine blade of the razor down his leg, leaving them looking almost child-like in their smoothness.

His bath was finished after that, and thankfully so, as the water was now lukewarm and chilling, driving him out of its comfort. When he stood, the women removed his sopping wet chemise, before replacing it with a dry one, seeming to have been warmed in anticipation for his chilliness.

A perfume of fresh flowers was spread onto his skin, almost making his eyes water at the strong scent, and his hair was brushed and softened, curling somewhat at the ends from their previous wetness. As a soft lotion was massaged across his arms, Arthur realized why exactly he had been forced out of the celebrations so early, the preparation for the night taking much longer than he could have expected.

Honestly, did it really matter if every crack of his body smelled like a freshly pruned rose? It was unnatural, and he personally would have found it off-putting. But he had no idea, perhaps Alfred was a fan of all of the feminine splendor.

He forced himself to not think about Alfred, as any thought of him would likely send the chattering nervousness in his body into overdrive. Alfred was handsome, and well-built, but the appreciation ended there. Arthur did not wish to sleep with him, or kiss him, and if he had a choice, Arthur would be an unmarried man right now, without a care in the world. The blessing of being Queen was humbling and a gift he could not compare, but being Queen also meant being married. And being married meant sharing a bed, among… Other things.

In truth, when their faces had been merely inches from each other after their waltz, Arthur had felt something. A small bubbling in the deepest part of his body, that spread through his limbs in some-sort of euphoria. It could have been anything, nervousness, exhaustion, even the beginnings of a slight cold, but it was certainly not attraction. There was no way it could be attraction, most definitely not.

When the preparations were complete, once again Arthur was eased through the back hallways, shrouded in darkness, this time frozen in his mere sheet of an outfit. His teeth were chattering with every step, the fur slippers on his feet only succeeding in keeping his toes warm, while the rest of his body suffered.

As such, he felt a wave of relief upon entering the Royal bedchamber, the walls covered in lit candles, casting their light and heat across the room. The bed looked both opulent but welcoming, the curtains surrounding it pulled back to reveal a downy collection of blankets that Arthur could have easily thrown himself under.

However, he waited for the wordless servants to pull them down, climbing in as they assisted in covering his bare legs. They placed the heavy canopy in the golden rungs on either side of the bed, clearly signaling sleep was not the main goal of this bedtime ritual.

One woman sat the candle in her hands easily on the nightstand, before backing away, seeming to have an indecisive look on her face. She opened her mouth, before closing it in hesitance, then finally looking up at Arthur as he sat dwarfed under the piles of blankets.

“I-I think you look very lovely, Your Majesty,” she jumped when the other woman reached for her arm, squeezing it in reproach.

“Sarah!” She chided, but failed in stopping her from continuing her speech.

“I think His Majesty would be dense if he did not find you exciting,” her words could have easily earned her plenty of punishment, but Arthur only stared at her, his noble countenance completely gone in the face of his tension.

He watched as she was dragged from the room, stumbling over he feet while the older woman forced her into the hallway, doing so to protect her. The pair left without a proper exit, but Arthur was far from being offended, still focused on nothing but the nervous shaking of his fingers.

He attempted to pull the covers up further, but his hands could not still, and all strength had left his body. The blonde sat totally still in the gigantic bed, swallowed by the sheer size of it, feeling even smaller in reference to the grand room.

If there were ever a place to perfectly encapsulate the lavishness of the monarchy, it would be the Royal bedroom. Every furnishing was coated in gold, and every decoration was padded in blue velvet, creating an atmosphere that seemed more like a scene worth admiring, than sleeping in.

Arthur felt alien, and afraid, sitting in complete silence while the candle’s wax melted, trying to succeed in convincing himself that Alfred would not come. It worked, up until the intricately carved main door creaked open, causing him to jump and look over.

Alfred peaked around the painted wood, before entering, letting the door close haphazardly behind him. Arthur watched the man take a few steps into the room, before he kicked his legs out from underneath the duvet, displaying their glossy smoothness, his attempt at what he assumed was seduction.

“D-Did you enjoy the rest of the banquet?” Arthur’s voice was meek, and not attractive at all, his face already heating up at his ineptitude. Alfred looked at him with furrowed brows, before bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck indifferently.

“It was okay,” he walked over to the vanity near the tall windows in the front of the room, removing each of his rings to set them in a jewelry box trimmed in gold and crystal. Both men sat in silence, before Arthur again spoke up, hands curled into the soft sheets.

“Will you be coming to bed?”

Alfred did not turn to look at him, and took a minute to close the bright box. When he did, he made the movement swift, facing Arthur with an unconcerned smile on his face.

“I’ll be leaving for a hunting trip tonight. I’ll return by tomorrow evening,” he approached the bed in brisk strides, and gave Arthur no time to prepare before he leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of his head. He smiled down at the stunned man, turning on his heels and leaving the room without another word.

 

When the door closed behind him, Alfred brought a hand up to his face, blocking his mouth from sight. Of course, no one was around, but he felt it was necessary to hide the blush on his cheeks, his own skin hot against his fingertips.

That man… Alfred knew he would be in the bed when he returned, but he did not expect him to make any effort at all in the way he did. Alfred had imagined he would be asleep already, with his back turned and a heavy flannel robe on, or his nose in a book.

Instead, he had let the embroidered edges of his chemise rise up and show off the pale expanse of his thighs, the large collar slipping off of his shoulder and showing the unmarked skin there. And with that voice, he had said _“Will you be coming to bed?”_.

Alfred let his hands slip under his glasses to rub his eyes, forcing the image burned into his sight from his mind. This was bad, very bad. No person had a right to be that stupidly attractive, but infuriatingly irritating at the same time. If Alfred had known Arthur in any other way, he would have incessantly made fun of him, he was easy prey. He was quick to get a heated response from, and seemed to cherish all of the dying customs that Alfred loved to ignore. The simple antithesis of their personalities should have been enough to keep them far away from each other, but something under neither of their control brought them together. And now, Alfred had to deal with _“Will you be coming to bed?”_ and pretty shaved legs and that sweet, clean smell… All while being subjected to his unattractive spite and conventionalism too.

Pushing himself up from leaning on the door, Alfred took off in a brisk walk down the hall, knowing his horse was saddled and waiting for him just outside the castle. He was going to ride, and hunt, and forget about _“Will you be coming to bed?”_ for the night, hoping that it would somehow all be gone by the time he returned. Because ignoring his problems was much easier than facing the fact that he was the King of the most powerful kingdom in the West, and despite all of the power and influence he held, he was still reduced to some blushing mess by an inept, angry, blonde boy.

 

Arthur sat in complete shock when Alfred left, arms limp at his side, legs chilled from being out of the cocoon of blankets for so long. He remained motionless there, watching the first candle in the room extinguish, knowing the rest would follow, but still unable to force himself to move.

Was he really that unattractive? Even after all of the pimping and preening, he was still so undesirable that he was left in bed in favor for _hunting?_ Finally, the blonde laid down, the feathery pillows cradling him as he slowly rolled onto his side.

Outside, the celebrational fireworks had begun, a cacophony of bangs and rumbling, littering white glares across the sky. On the ground, in the center of the lake within the gardens, were two giant A’s, both brightly lit and shimmering, separated by a single spade between them. For Alfred and Arthur, it was all for them.

But Arthur could not accept the gesture, nor could he accept the love and devotion his subjects had showered upon him through the entire night. He had failed, he had failed his mother and his country, unable to fulfill even the first duty he was given as a Queen, to make the King love him. The tears pooled in the spaces next to his eyes, overflowing and falling onto the white sheets with unrestrained anguish. It was exhausting, all of it was exhausting, and Arthur began to audibly sob as he brought his hands to his face, cries sounding hollow against his palm.

The noisy explosions covered his cries, until even he could not hear them. Lights rained across the sky, showering the great castle in a brilliant display of wealth and festivity. Arthur sobbed through the entire display, missing the finale, and the general grandness of it all.

And he continued crying, he cried for over an hour, until every candle in the palace had burned to a stub, and the King was long gone, miles away with his back turned to the bed he left half-empty.

And that was how the Queen of Spades fell asleep, not from weariness, but from complete fatigue, body going limp against the sheets spun of silk. His first night in the palace was complete, and the many more that stretched before him in expectation melted away into a welcoming oblivion, all of his emotions fading into only the small sounds of slumber.

* * *

*Allemande - An Allemande is a type of court dance popular in the 1700's. There are many types of Allemande's, and some were meant to be preformed with a group while others were more commonly made for just a couple. The type of Allemande I am describing, where the hands are intertwined and rosettes are being preformed, was still considered a bit too forward, as the hands were remaining connected for long periods of time, but it was still danced, especially later in the century. You can watch a video of a segment of it being preformed in costume _[here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3ay1kAK0YA)_

*Minuet - A Minuet is another type of court dance that was the most popular dance of its time in Noble circles. They are very elaborate dances meant to be preformed by couples in front of many observers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and thanks for reading the second chapter of my fic! I hope you can see why having the first chapter attached to this one would have made it much too long.
> 
> Before anyone attacks me, yes I am aware the waltz is not historically accurate for the Rococo/Baroque time period. The waltz was actually considered unrefined and offensive by the Nobility, since the era was all about restraint and the physical touching of the waltz was seen as crude. But, like I said, I was going to take artistic liberties, and I absolutely love waltzing and think its the most romantic form of coupled dance. So... enjoy the dancing, not the details!
> 
> I'll actually be discussing a couple forms of dance that we don't necessarily use in our modern day, and it might be hard to visualize if you've never seen them preformed before. Case in point, the Allemande, which I placed an asterisk next to so you could see a video of it being preformed!
> 
> Honestly, writing Arthur and Alfred falling in love is borderline painful for me. They both have that level of tsundere that just destroys any chance of an actual conversation discussing feelings taking place. It is just the beginning, however, and they are young in a situation that young people should never be placed in. Alfred will man up some day soon ;)
> 
> Well, that's all I have to say for now! I really hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please leave some kudos and a comment, I love responding to people and discussing your thoughts and interpretations on things. I will be back soon with the next chapter!
> 
> Much love.


	3. ♠The Sorrows of Young Arthur♠

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words and phrases marked with asterisks (*) have factoids/explanations that go with them, and will be listed at the bottom of the work. Enjoy!

_“Did you get a chance to view the Royal painting in the courthouse? It was just delivered yesterday.”_

_“I visited with my sewing circle, we waited half an’ hour to get a glimpse! How divine was the Queen’s robe? And the design of his shoes, I’ve commissioned a pair of similar style from the cobbler already.”_

_“The King looked so handsome, his eyes were so intense! My sister found herself faint.”_

_“My mother chased after me with tweezers all morning… She’s trying to thin my brows, but I’m letting them grow out to look like the Queen’s.”_

_“Have you heard? They said a shower of light poured down from the sky on the King and Queen durin’ their waltz. Apparently, their feet lifted from the ground, and they danced in the air!”_

_“Oh, it’s the truth! My father’s distant cousin is a Noble, was at the ball y’know? S’pposedly said they were like angels when they twirled off the ground.”_

Katyusha covered her mouth to silence the amused giggle in reaction to the exaggerated words she was reading. It did little to mask the noise, and unfortunately Arthur awoke, his body shooting into the air in half-conscious fear.

It took him a second to register his surroundings, only able to comprehend the immediate difference in the bed he lay in. The royal blue sheets were now white, and the sun cast brightly around the room, shielded by nothing in place of the heavy, embellished curtains he was used to pulling back. This was not his room, and this was not the Kirkland mansion.

His head quickly turned to see the woman sitting by his bed, her hand now blocking surprise. Arthur blinked, adjusting his eyes in the light to take in the appearance of the Princess, recognizing her after another brief moment of confusion.

“Oh, I woke you! I apologize, Your Majesty,” Katyusha set the bound papers in her hand onto her lap, behind the tray of fruits and breads balancing on her knees.

“… You said Your Majesty again,” Arthur commented, hand flying up to rub the sleep from his face, itching his eyes in hopes he could banish the heaviness from their lids.

“Right, Arthur, oh, I’m sorry.” Arthur waved at her apologies, aware the jesting in his voice had not been obvious enough, or had gone completely over her head.

“What were you laughing at?” He gestured his head toward the papers in her lap. Katyusha lifted the tiny stack, the size just enough to fit in her palm, a smile on her face.

“The pamphlets from the Capital, all about your wedding of course.” Katyusha thumbed through the pages, the edges already curling, most likely from being turned repeatedly. Arthur was attempting to flatten the unruly pieces of hair that stuck up embarrassingly on his head, before he made an unimpressed noise at her words.

“You read that drivel?” Arthur asked, and Katyusha shrugged, stopping her search in the pages to look up at him.

“We are only a few miles from the city, so it is good to keep up on the talk. Also, I find them somewhat amusing.” Katyusha displayed a certain entry, the blocked letters across the page too distant for Arthur to read, so she spoke.

“Like here, it recounts the story of a Noble who claims you had the wings and halo of an angel,” Katyusha laughed, but Arthur only raised his eyebrows at the outrageous claim. “According to everyone, you seem to _be_ our angel.”

Arthur had never taken part in the vulgar and offensive pamphlet books* that remained wildly popular within the cities, he found the crude poems and drawings inside them uncultured at best and indecent at worst. It was not proper reading material for a Noble, especially for a Queen or Princess, but Katyusha seemed to like them, snorting to herself as she continued to leaf through the pages.

“…Did you need my assistance this morning?” Arthur ignored the angel claim, and moved on to questioning her presence in the bedchamber. She closed the book for good, setting it to the side, moving to lift the food tray from her lap.

“I figured you would rather have family bring you your breakfast on your first real day in the castle, as opposed to a servant,” the kind woman smiled, raising the tray slightly so Arthur could see its contents.

Family…? Marriage related them of course, but family was a stretch. He had known the Princess for barely over a day, but she seemed all too eager cement their relationship as one of inseparable sisters.

The truth was, Katyusha had absolutely no one when she herself had come to Spades’ Court, and not one person had been keen on assisting her, or even welcoming her with warmness. She did come from the kingdom’s most formidable rival, which she understood, and her role as a spy had been accepted before she even set foot in the castle.

She did not have the comfort and familiarity Arthur had, even now she still stumbled when she spoke the Spades’ language, and being prone to tears did not earn her any ounce of respect. The first months for her were lonely, and she had missed desperately the warmth of family she once had.

Now, the Court was fully aware she was too dimwitted and soft to ever be the salacious spy they assumed her to be, so instead of coldness, she was treated with an off form of pity. And while being the outsider scapegoat took a thick-skin to handle, one Katyusha did not necessarily have, the de facto family she found in her husband and the King was strong enough to keep her protected and happy.

So, while Arthur would have it considerably easier, already being a member of the Nobility that Katyusha found it impossible to be accepted by, she knew the loneliness and sadness he would experience. She only wanted to make him feel that he had a confidant, a friend, and a family, in the castle that appeared perfect, but could be so cruel.

It was a shame Katyusha did not understand that Arthur’s idea of family was one that did not necessarily carry the comfort that hers did.

Standing, she brought the tray to Arthur’s side, setting it on the bed so he could eat off of the silver plates himself. Arthur thanked her, but noticed the absence of any teacup, searching the room with his eyes to find a steaming tea set next to where Katyusha had once sat.

“Oh! The tea, excuse me.” She left to pour him a cup into the finely crafted porcelain, and Arthur began to chew a biscuit, starving after a night of no food. The silver was exquisite, much brighter than his family’s own, and every utensil was elaborately engraved with spades and flowers. It felt almost blasphemous to eat from them, and Arthur spread the jam onto his biscuit with a light hand, making sure he did not dirty the knife more than he needed.

“Will Matthew be returning tonight as well?” He attempted to make small talk, biting down when Katyusha turned to face him with a confused look.

“Returning? He never left.” The bread was dry in his mouth, and he instantly regretted ever saying the words, feeling the thick pastry choke him. “You don’t mean… Did Alfred leave last night?”

Katyusha handed him the scalding drink, making sure he grabbed the cups thin handle and the saucer it sat on to prevent his fingers from burning. Arthur did not meet her eyes, instead taking the drink wordlessly, holding it carefully in his hands.

“He said he was hunting, I had just assumed Prince Matthew would be accompanying him.” Arthur was trying to downplay the conversation, but unfortunately Katyusha was invested, crossing her arms over her chest in a fit of anger.

“That Alfred…! I’ll have to scold him when he returns,” Katyusha shook her head, the golden pins in her hair shaking as she did, “Leaving your Queen on your wedding night… How loathsome!”

“It- Really, it’s okay,” though Arthur would have _loved_ to see Alfred be chewed out for what he did, he could not pretend he was not secretly relieved his ‘Queenly duties’ had been postponed for another night. More importantly, if anyone were to know Arthur and Alfred had not consummated their marriage, it could lead to public ridicule, and even worse, a forced divorce. Just because he was a male Queen did not mean he was free from the rules and obligations of a royal marriage.

“Katyusha,” Arthur commanded her attention while she continued to huff and puff, the woman pausing to face him, “…You cannot tell anyone the King did not spend the night here… please.”

He tossed a polite word on the end to mask his genuine desperateness, but knew she would listen simply by the tone of his voice. He was Queen, after all.

“I wouldn’t, I would never,” Katyusha waved her hands frantically in front of her face, before rushing up to Arthur and grabbing onto his shoulders, “Your secret is safe with me.”

Arthur nodded his thanks, feeling uncomfortable as the woman continued to look into his eyes. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, disturbing the liquid in his cup and sending it rocking back and forth. After a pause, she spoke, eyes downcast.

“Truthfully, Matthew and I did not… consummate our marriage for some months after we were married,” Katyusha giggled at her confession, a blush across her cheeks, “It is normal to be nervous.”

Arthur knew her words should be reassuring, but the naïve view of his responsibility did little to calm his nerves. What did, however, was the fact that Katyusha was in an even more perilous position than he, as if she failed to produce an heir her dismissal from Court was most certain. If she had survived for months likely lying about the truth in their bedchamber, Arthur was sure he could do the same.

“When you are married to someone you do not know, it can be difficult to fall in love with them like you would someone else. But now,” Katyusha looked around the empty room, giggling again as she leaned in to speak closely at Arthur’s ear, in a slightly hushed voice, “He can barely keep his hands off of me!”

Arthur turned to her with an abashed face, Katyusha only laughing, bring a hand to her bright red cheeks. The man let out a disbelieving scoff, resuming eating his breakfast, peeling a mandarin carefully with his lightly quaking fingers. He did this all while trying to banish the image from his head.

Before he could comment, there was a knock on the door, an aproned woman entering immediately after. She curtsied to the pair, then spoke to Katyusha directly.

“Pardon my intrusion, Your Highness, Your Majesty,” she glanced up at them, before lowering her eyes back to the ground when she found them watching her, “Prince Matthew has awoken and is asking for you, Your Highness.”

Katyusha jumped up, a bright smile on her face, thanking the girl for her service. She turned to look at Arthur, the blush having traveled from her face and down to her neck, in a pretty pink that signified pure happiness.

“Speak of it, and it shall arrive!” Katyusha curtsied at Arthur hurriedly, clearly excited to go. “I trust I will be seeing you at the Morning Reception?”

“Of course,” Arthur watched the woman pick up her skirt in order to scurry from the room, her heels clicking against the floor as she disappeared out of the door. When she was out of sight, Arthur lifted a slice of the orange to his mouth but paused, the servant remaining in his room speaking.

“Is His Majesty finished with his breakfast?” She still did not meet his eye, and Arthur lowered the food so his mouth was clear.

“I would like a few more minutes to finish.” The girl nodded, backing away a few steps, but not leaving. Arthur glanced around before raising his eyebrows, clearly agitating her discomfort. “Alone?”

“O-Of course Your Majesty, please excuse me.” She left the room in a flash, and Arthur sighed, falling onto his back against the downy pillows, finally dropping the fruit into his mouth as the door closed.

Arthur finished his breakfast in much needed solitude, admiring the dance the transparent curtains made as a low breeze drifted past the open windows. Katyusha must have opened them, thankfully so, as the warming temperature allowed for the fresh smells to aerate the stuffy walls of the castle. When he was finished, he stood, taking the moment to quietly explore the room. He first approached the vanity, examining the box Alfred had dropped his rings into the night before.

Arthur opened it, picking out the largest piece of jewelry from the group. The gold band supported a sapphire cut into an impeccable oval, with petite diamonds surrounding it, their individual reflectivity glinting in their facets next to the light from the window.

Arthur slid the band onto his middle finger, seeing it was, unsurprisingly, too big for him. Just as he began to remove it, the door opened, no respectful knock in advance this time.

In a swift movement, Yao entered, his excessively long robes trailing behind him in an elegant display. There were men of his appearance on either side of him, with severe faces that could only signify they were his help, both as servants and as protection. He gave Arthur’s state a once over, seeming unfazed that the man was still in his sleepwear that remained slightly sheer.

“Pick-pocketing the Royal bechamber?” Yao commented, and Arthur immediately dropped the ring back into the golden box, closing the lid. “If you want more jewelry, you can submit a request to me and I’ll review it-“

“I… require no more jewels, thank you very much.” Promptly, Arthur reached for the heavy robe draped across the vanity’s chair, flinging it over his shoulders as the spotted fur that trimmed the bottom slid across the floor. He stuck his arms through the wide holes, before crossing them over his chest, as to cover his body with the cumbersome fabric. Typically, he should have had a collection of servants to assist him into his morning robes, but he was not about to wait for them as he stood revealed to the men before him.

“Very well.” Without another word, Yao turned on his heels, motioning with a finger for Arthur to follow him. Arthur very well could not expect him to act like a typical advisor, and could not blame him for his lack of manners, going from an Emperor to the penny pincher of the Monarchy was surely not a smoothly had transition. But seriously, making such gestures at Arthur, not letting him change? It was a bit much.

“I wish to make you familiar with the motions of the Reception before you lead it this morning.” The assistants to the left of Yao stepped aside to make room for Arthur, who took a few long strides to arrive at his side, but was surprised to realize Yao walked extremely slowly, and reaching him was not as difficult as he had imagined. “Unfortunately, without the King here, you will be presenting your first time alone, but I do not expect trouble. I will be guiding the ceremony as I always do.”

Yao made a sharp right turn, and Arthur had to scramble to stay at his side, his soft slippers providing little traction to rely on. Again, the aloof man paid no attention to Arthur’s discomfort, and did not see the miffed look the blonde threw his way.

“Yes well, the King seems to do as he pleases, when he pleases, regardless of who it impacts.” Arthur kept his arms crossed as the draft they were surrounded in picked up, the group entering a room of immaculate windows, each one stretching from the ceiling to the wooden floor, lining the wall as it opened endlessly ahead. The wall to its opposite was composed entirely of mirrors, reflecting the bright view of the gardens that the windows opened to, creating a hall of perpetual light and luminosity. Dozens of chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, the crystal reflecting an endless expanse of beautifully detailed imagery painted across the ceiling, cherubs and knights alike adorned in robes of white and flowers, forever immobile on their heavenly perch.

If the Grand Hall embodied the history of the Spades’ Kingdom, with its relics and portraits of every Monarch that had come to pass, and the Chapel illustrated the story of its inception across the panels of tinted glass, then the Hall of Mirrors* exhibited the true abundance and beauty the modern throne held, displaying its current splendor, as opposed to those of the past. It was a place of refinement and mystique, a long stretch of land that never went dark, and never saw the calamity that came with it. With no words, the fairytale land explained just how prosperous the palace was, and unabashedly embraced the somewhat detached affluence it reflected daily from the passing of the Royalty.

Arthur had no time to admire it, as Yao stopped immediately after he spoke, turning to consider him with a straight face.

“While I find your comments amusing, and I do enjoy laughing at the King’s expense, I don’t recommend making such statements lightly. Especially with the emptiness of your marriage bed.”

Yao’s words were frightening, but Arthur stood his ground, letting only the annoyance display on his face with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Will I lose my head?”

Yao held the eye contact for only a few more seconds, before he continued his walk, back to the Queen, “It is not physical retribution you should be fearing.”

“I must make sure no one is wise to the fact that the King left last night, I am aware.” Arthur was only a few steps behind him, but he saw the man sigh visibly, his shoulders rising and falling beneath the many layers of blue cloth draped across them.

“You are smarter than those obtuse brothers, at least.”

Arthur took the scathing compliment with a dark laugh, pulling his arms tighter across his chest as the wind scuttled beneath his feet in a now-chilling breeze. The procession made their way out of the sumptuous hall, and into the first door on the left, emerging into a large room that greeted their feet with a velvet carpet.

Servants were already preparing the room for the Morning Reception, setting vases of anemones and roses onto the marble stands that lined the blue walkway every few steps. At the head of the room, a garland was being wrapped around the Royal portrait that sat massively on the wall, imposing in its sheer size. It was larger than a person, and two boys were balancing on the shoulders of the sturdier men below them as they hooked the thick string of flowers around the golden frame.

Arthur had not sat with the King for the official portrait, obviously, and in the days leading up to the wedding ceremony he had been skillfully painted into the already existing ascension portrait of Alfred. It was the one Arthur first saw upon his arrival before he was chosen to be Queen, and now seeing the image of his husband that had been engraved into his mind, with Arthur himself sitting right next to him, it was difficult to swallow.

Alfred was holding the bejeweled scepter that signified his position, just as important as the crown on his head, in his hand, the great length of his velvet robes highlighted to be glimmering as it cascaded from his wide shoulders. His right hand was resting on a globe, brazenly implying his status as the most powerful man to have control over the world.

And seated on a velour recliner next to his legs, back ramrod straight and hands clasping a dark blue rose gently, was his Queen, a small, gilded crown on his head as well. His pale skin was painted almost translucent, and unfortunately, the brows he regularly argued were _not_ too big, were prominent on his face, accentuating the serious expression he held.

This portrait now sat elevated not only above the two thrones in this room, but in the Grand Hall, and in every official government building in every acre of land owned by the Spades Kingdom.  Of course, they were not all as enormous as the replica in the Reception room, and it was not uncommon for both Noble families and those of common blood to display their own, smaller copies of the Royal portrait in their homes.

Arthur moved his eyes down from the painting to the pair of thrones in front of it, identically painted in gold with luxurious padding. Yao and Arthur approached them, the crowd of attendants dropping away to stand in a line at the door, giving the two much needed air. Every person present turned to bow at the passing Royalty, pausing their work to lower themselves in respect.

“You will be seated in the throne for the entire time, and I will introduce the Nobles as they are permitted to approach. I understand you are polite, but do not worry about returning their bows, and remain seated.”

They took the small stairs up to the thrones, and Arthur approached the one on the right, which he knew was to be his. He ran a finger along one of the elegantly drafted arms, feeling the unexpected smoothness of it on his skin.

“I am expecting a large turnout, as almost all of the Nobles stayed overnight from the wedding to offer their congratulations one-on-one. This will, naturally, be profitable for us.” Yao was looking over the bound papers he held in his hand, likely containing the numbers he was required to crunch every day for the bookkeeping.

Arthur snorted, responding to the fact that Nobles were required to display not only status, but a large sum of money in payment to have an audience with the Royalty. Regardless of the ridiculous rules, it was still a rather popular custom, and Arthur had personal memories of his own family spending thousands of coins on their exclusive meetings with the late King. The ritual was a privilege, but its original purpose in messier times was so the Royalty could serve as a mediator between the Nobles’ wealth and land disputes, all the while keeping the kingship in the loop as to all of the issues that permeated the kingdom’s elite. On the outside, it was framed as a gift, when in truth, it was merely another tactic to keep the monarchy powerful.

“No complaints have been filed as of now, and it will likely remain that way, so only prepare yourself to respond to their congratulations and gifts.” Yao closed his makeshift book, and turned to Arthur, waiting for him to finish his observation of the seat. “Normally, we would be taking this time to discuss the correct course of action in response to their grievances, but you may return to your room and dress instead.”

“Yao,” Arthur faced him, an interested look on his face, testing the waters with using the Emperor’s name, “You speak the Spades’ language with amazing fluency, better than even Katyusha. How long have you been here?”

Yao was certainly not keen on answering any personal questions, but after a few unamused blinks, he spoke, the book pressed against his chest.

“When your armies began encroaching on the East, I was only a child, but I started studying both the Spades’ and Clubs’ language, as those remained the largest threat. Of course, my family never prepared to be conquered, but diplomacy was inevitable, and my father made sure all of his children were prepared to deal with your kingdoms.” Arthur listened earnestly as Yao told his story, unwise to the venom in his words, the reminder of his unfortunate circumstances still leaving a foul taste in his mouth. “When I came of age, my father sent me to King Andrew so peace between our kingdoms could always be assured. King Alfred favored my work, and while the death of my father _should_ have returned me to my home, as I am first-born son and Emperor, he commanded I stay here.”

So, Alfred’s selfishness impacted more people than Arthur had expected. How did he expect Yao to govern his country from halfway across the world? The clear answer was that he did not, he did not give a single thought toward the inconveniences his desires caused. Arthur knew that well enough.

Yao ended his story with an irritated turn, moving down the stairs without Arthur this time. The blonde easily caught up, and spoke smugly, “It’s as I said, he does as he pleases, no matter the circumstances.”

Yao made no reaction to his words, and Arthur moved on to his own questions, still intrigued enough by the man cut from a completely different cloth to mind his talk and read the atmosphere.

“Wait, you were young when King Andrew approached your lands… How old are you exactly?” Arthur had not even been born during that time, and hearing Yao was relatively older than him caught him by surprise. The man had such a youthful face, almost childlike, and Arthur was not sure if it was just the foreignness of his looks that made him appear so boyish, or if he had merely been blessed with a gift any wrinkled woman would murder to have.

“ _Rude, spoiled little-_ “ Yao whispered under his breath in a language he was sure Arthur would not understand, glancing over with irked eyes as he moved to properly responding, “It is inappropriate to ask someone such a forward question when you barely know them, Queen of Spades. If I were you, I would study up on your manners.”

Yao’s lackeys surrounded them again when they made their exit, Arthur visibly offended at the surly words. He stopped in his tracks, watching as Yao continued moving into the Hall of Mirrors.

“E-Excuse me? My manners? I’ll have you know, I am likely the most well-mannered person in this entire castle,” Arthur called after him, but Yao continued on without another word, the intricate layers of his clothing billowing in the wind around him. The Queen scoffed, looking to the side at an adolescent boy who was carrying a porcelain vase of flowers in his hands, his position making him unfortunately sandwiched between the wall and the irate Royal. His eyes were wide in fear, likely having never seen a Queen before, and experiencing the wrath of one first-hand was undoubtedly jarring.

“I’m sorry, what are you looking at?” Arthur’s remark completely disproved the so-called truth he had exclaimed before, and the servant took off, ducking into the Reception room quickly in pure terror, disappearing from Arthur’s annoyed glare.

Sighing, Arthur took to following the path back to his room, Yao and his crew having left the Hall before him. As he walked, he glanced to his right, seeing his reflection pass by with every mirror, a frown ever-present on his face. There he was, the serious, ‘ill-mannered’, Queen of Spades, looking like an inflated triangle in his cumbersome morning robe. Now, he had to manage the first ever Morning Reception of King Alfred’s reign, all alone, simply because his husband would rather be off galivanting and hunting game than face his responsibilities. So, really, he saw no problem with him being miffed.

The birds sang outside as he traversed the wooden floors, twittering by the windows, all seeming to want to catch a glimpse of the Queen themselves. Arthur paid them no mind, and entered back into the Royal bedchamber, greeted with a plethora of women all arranging his outfit for the day.

“Your Majesty!” The first exclaimed, and they all bumbled to bow to him in surprise, holding ribbons and lace in their hands. He passed by them with only a slight nod, approaching the elevated stool he was to stand on while they took turns dressing him. When he extended his arms, they all went to work, moving to slide off his sleeping clothes, that had not even been disturbed through the night, and clothe him with his daily wear.

When they had finished, he approached the vanity’s mirror, adjusting his cufflinks as he felt they sat too loose on his wrists. From behind, a woman approached, holding a porcelain container of powder in one hand, and a light sponge in the other, grabbing his attention with a small clearing of her throat.

“Would His Majesty like some powder?” She lifted the already coated sponge, and the sight made Arthur want to vomit, his throat closing at the familiar smell.

“No, thank you. I won’t request it… ever. Make sure you do not bring any to me again.” He tried to keep his words from sounding too abrasive, but when she backed away in clear fear, he was aware it had not worked. Honestly? It was not his fault. If you had grown up surrounded by an entire cloud of the foul makeup, when you finally had some freedom, you would eagerly banish it from your sight.

Instead, they brought him a basin of scented water, a clean cloth draped over the side. He dipped his fingers in and wiped away any of the remaining remnants of sleep from his face and neck, blotting away the dewiness with the stiff towel when he finished.

With one more glance into the mirror, Arthur completed his morning dressing. He was aware when he exited his room, there would be a crowd waiting for him in the Hall of Mirrors, every Noble, once again, eagerly hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Exiting alone would be uncomfortable, but Arthur was already feeling himself getting used to the stares and gawking, especially those that came with him having to respond to the King’s unpredictable behavior.

As he made the exit from the Royal bedroom, he now saw soldiers stationed at every door and archway. They began pounding their spears against the ground in time as Arthur walked by, hearing one announce in a booming voice, “The Queen!”

When he emerged into the glittering Hall, everyone hushed their chattering, lowering themselves into deep bows. The women held their skirts out to keep themselves balanced, the gaudy feathers and pearls in their hair dipping forward with their lowered heads, while the men removed their tricorn hats in respect. Every person had put on their personal best, somehow even fancier than the night before, all wishing to catch the eye of the King and Queen and be invited to remain in the castle for a dinner or hunting excursion.

Arthur was not deaf to the whispers about the King that emerged, all questioning where he was when the Queen passed by, left side empty. He paid it no attention, and turned into the Reception hall briskly, leaving them behind to mutter between themselves.

As he had said, Yao was standing at the foot of the stairs before the thrones, his once loosely attached papers now fully bound into a fat, leather book. Next to him, two women were holding the Queen’s crown on a red pillow, waiting for Arthur to approach so they could lift it onto his head. He did not kneel this time, instead still as they settled into carefully atop his blonde hair.

When they finished, he took his seat on the throne, keeping his posture tight and his back away from the rest a lazier man would have leaned back on. He placed his hands placidly on the arms, looking pristine and at ease in the majestic seat, despite his heart pounding in his ears and his body feeling engulfed by the largeness of it.

The scene was only half as magnificent as it should be, missing the essential component that would have made it complete. A King of Royal blood should have been at Arthur’s side, but instead, he was probably knee-deep in the blood of a boar with some sort of gleeful smile on his face.

Yao looked up to Arthur, opening his book to the first page, officiating with practiced ease, “The first Noble to request your attention is Lord Roy, Count of Bellborne. He wishes to offer his congratulations on your marriage, and present you with a gift.”

“I permit it,” Arthur’s voice sounded haughtier to those that listened than to himself, internally only glad he had spoken without any glimmer of doubt.

Yao nodded toward the guards at the entrance to the room, both pulling their spears away from the crossed position that had blocked off the doorway to anyone outside. A man entered between them, their spears pounding the wooden floors as he made his strut up the velvet carpet.

When he had approached close enough, he lowered himself to his knee, a hand placed over his chest in clear devotion. Arthur watched as he spoke first to his feet, then looked up to meet the Royal’s eyes.

“I am beyond blessed you have accepted my request to be in your presence, Your Majesty.” His full moustache blocked his mouth, but the stylishness and overexaggerated eloquence of his words were clear. “To be in your presence is truly the greatest honor a man could receive.”

Arthur could have thought of a million responses to the ridiculously embellished claim, but he remained silent, letting the showy man continue to speech. The Count stood, and with a bit of hesitation, he spoke again.

“I am only surprised to see the King is not with you, I take it he has not fallen on ill health?”

Arthur’s frown was regrettably visible, but he did not fluctuate in his tone, the lie he created falling from his mouth smoothly, “Unfortunately, the King had a bout of illness this morning following a night of celebration. It will pass, and he will return to his duties tomorrow.”

The man’s face broke into a relieved smile, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead with his gold embossed handkerchief. He was clearly disappointed his showboating had not been seen by the King, but he did not make it apparent, instead returning to his praises.

“One can only imagine! The wine and champagne of the castle are truly on another level of richness. And, if I might add,” he smirked up at Arthur with an inappropriate gleam in his eye, “If I were to share a bed with someone as beautiful as the Queen, I would never wish to leave it.”

Arthur felt his eyes go wide, mouth falling open in pure, aghast shock. The highly improper comment made him flash bright red, and luckily, before he could attempt stammering his response, voices outside began to rise up. The beating of the spears began once again, and from the Hall he heard a soldier exclaim, “The Prince!”

As announced, Matthew appeared a few seconds after, passing by the guards at the entrance with relaxed ease. The once raunchy man lowered himself to his knee in surprise, and Arthur pushed himself to his feet, watching Matthew wave a hand in response.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” He asked, a casual smile on his face.

“N-Not at all, Your Highness! I’m honored you have graced me with your arrival.” Matthew nodded at the man, signaling it was okay for him to stand again. Walking by the startled Noble, the sandy blonde approached the stairs, looking up at the still-standing Arthur.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” His voice was amicable, but it was clear to Arthur that he was here not out of accident. Katyusha must have told him… What a loose tongue!

“Certainly not,” Arthur said, his voice festering with annoyance. Not at the man’s arrival, as he knew Matthew was only here to assist him, but at the fact Katyusha had spilled his dreadful secret. Regardless, he moved back to his seat as Matthew approached the other throne, now filling the deserted spot Arthur had next to him with Royal presence. At least, now, he was not facing the lengthy morning entirely alone.

It was obvious Matthew had never sat in one of the chairs himself, looking at both of his hands when they grasped the clawed ends of the arms. It was an odd feeling, after seeing his own father fill the chair effortlessly for all of those years, to now find himself in the same spot. Naturally, when they were young, the man had pulled Alfred onto his lap, not Matthew, and let him experience the views and feelings of the throne. So, for the second child, this was a first.

When he had settled himself, he glanced over to Arthur, still smiling, “What were we discussing?”

“I… was explaining that King Alfred found himself ill this morning, after all of the festivities, and would be returning tomorrow,” Arthur spoke quickly before the Noble in front of them could make any unsettling comments, finding himself unable to even look at him anymore, keeping his eyes on Matthew.

“Oh, yes. It’s an unbelievable phenomenon that a man that big can barely handle his alcohol.” Matthew laughed at his lie, turning to the man hanging on their every word, “You should tease him about it next time you see him, we joke about it all the time. It’s good fun.”

“I’ll remember it, thank you Your Highness!” He bowed his head, and Arthur did his best to inhale the laughter he felt rising in his throat. He coughed into his hand to hide his smile, and Matthew looked over with his own smirk, the pair shifting on the thrones as they slyly reacted to the trap they had set for Alfred.

“I-I was about to present His Majesty with a wedding gift, one my proprietors obtained on my trading routes in Chi.” Yao’s interest was immediately piqued, looking up from the notes he was jotting in his book with eyebrows raised. Everyone seemed to hold the same expression, in relative degrees, all curious to see the likely extravagant gift from a land none had visited.

Smirking in a satisfied way, pleased that he had the undivided attention of every person in the room, specifically the Royalty, the man took a few steps back. He swung his arms in a grandiose movement, motioning toward the entryway, everyone emitting audible gasps at what stood there.

“A magical beast, the striped Tiger!” The large cat was being restrained by multiple ropes and heftily built men, clearly struggling against its captors as they forced it into the room with harsh pulling. It was growling audibly, but could not open its mouth to brandish its enormous teeth as its jaw was forced shut. Outside the room, people had gathered around the peek in and observe the loud animal, having seen it carted through the hallway before its theatrical reveal.

There were gasps and applause that accompanied the foreign animal, the excitement almost overwhelming the angered noises the tiger was making. Arthur had exclaimed, ‘Dear Lord!’ at the sight, and currently had a hand covering his mouth in unsure shock.

The handlers kept the dangerous creature feet from its Noble owner, and even further from the Royalty, forcing it to a stop halfway down the blue carpet. Matthew looked over at Yao, interested to see if his reaction would inform him as to what sort of response he was to have to this.

Yao’s hands had gone utterly white, his knuckles so tense as he gripped his book they looked like they would pop out from underneath his skin. His face, in contrast, was bright red, a disbelieving frown taking over much of his expression. It was not a positive reception, so Matthew refrained from speaking, instead glancing back to the spectacle.

“The true brilliance of the King and Queen is so great, even beasts of immense power will bow at their feet.” The man nodded to the handlers, and they all placed their hands on the leather belts they wore. They attempted to pull the tiger to laying on the floor, but when it only seemed to resist more, they pulled their whips from their sides, smacking it with the short crops mercilessly.

As time went on, no progress was being made, and the irate animal was only pulling against its bondage more. Yao felt all reserve leave him as the blows continued to fall on the tiger, until finally his hands shot down to his sides, and he screamed, “Enough!”

Everyone paused, despite him not being their monarch, the pure authority in his voice enough to strike fear into their hearts.

“Treating this animal with such disrespect… there is nothing more insolent.” Yao took off in a brisk walk toward the wide-eyed Noble, the fury on his face glaring.

“Yao-“ Arthur attempted to interrupt him, but received no response, only able to watch as Yao spoke down to the terrified man, despite being shorter than him.

“My father’s dynasty is known as the Dynasty of the Tiger, and that makes me the son of the Tiger.” The Noble was looking around to anyone who could save him, but no one came to his aid, all silent as Yao continued his rant. “You have no right to treat a sacred animal with enough brute force to kill it. Your hands full of ill-intentions must _never_ be able touch its fur.”

“K-King Alfred has said repeatedly he wishes to begin a Royal Zoo, this is not for you to decide!” The man arrogantly stood by his present, even as it continued to fight ferociously with its captors behind him, seeming to be nowhere near out of stamina.

It truly was a majestic animal, and seemed worthy of being the name of a Royal dynasty. While they had Suits to their name, ancient and archaic, it appeared Chi had symbols of power, including animals. However, Arthur could not say he agreed with letting Yao’s personal attachments interfere with a gift presented to the King and Queen of _Spades_ , and unfortunately found himself siding with the Lord Roy. This was not a place for Yao’s emotions to disrupt.

Matthew spoke before Arthur could, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, “I don’t like the idea. An animal that wants to be free should be left in the wild, especially one like this.” He glanced over at the giant cat before continuing, seeing it whip its head about tirelessly. “We don’t have the accommodations for such a large creature at this time, and it would surely cost the lives of many caretakers.”

Yao’s anger did not seem to be subsiding, but the comment caught the crowd watching off guard, looking about with unsure gazes. Matthew’s decision was not final, and he was aware of this, turning to Arthur with a serious face.

“But, in place of my brother, it is ultimately your choice to make as Queen. What do you say?”

Arthur had not thought of the issues Matthew mentioned, and now saw that accepting such a gift would only put lives in danger. Aware this was more important than any sort of claim to glory or show of power, Arthur nodded in agreement with his brother-in-law.

“I agree with Prince Matthew, we do not have the space to put such a dangerous animal. I will have to decline your gift.” Arthur did not speak politely, as he was ecstatic at being able to put the tasteless man to shame. The Noble’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, obviously not having prepared himself to receive such a negative reaction. Yao watched him with a firm scrutiny, steely eyes following him as he bowed and excused himself without another eloquent word, taking his spot on the edges of the room where he would be obliged to remain for the remainder of the Reception, feet scurrying past the tiger as it lunged toward him in a failed attack.

“Yao,” Arthur moved to addressing the Jack, seeing how the red had melted from his face and a calmness had returned to him, “See to it that this animal is returned to your country on the next ship leaving from the Capital’s port, and that it is released in its natural habitat.”

The brunette looked up at Arthur, and while no friendship was swimming in his eyes, there was an unusual contentment, as if at the moment, he did not resent all that surrounded him. It was gone with a nod and Yao went back to jotting notes in his book, ordering a pair of guards to accompany the tiger and its handlers from the Reception Hall.

Arthur felt Matthew staring at him, and when he caught his eyes, a smile of approval was on his face, passing by in an uncountable second as the next Noble was introduced.

 

 

After hours of rather duller presents landing at his feet- jewels, silks, and furs mostly- Arthur was finally freed from the throne, his body starting to ache from being in one position for such an extended period of time. The room was utterly crowded with Nobles, all lining from the sides of the carpeted path to the walls, doing their best to look graceful as they observed Arthur stand, and begin his descent on the stairs.

If he had been alone, he would have most likely been obligated to partake in conversation with those of highest rank, his mother included, but with Matthew at his side he had an excuse to traverse the velvet walkway without stop. The pair spoke close to each other, the crown now absent from Arthur’s head allowing him to turn his neck and whisper to the Prince.

“That was rather smart of you, to reject Lord Roy’s gift with such diction.” Matthew laughed quietly as Arthur continued, seeing the disappointment in the faces of those they passed, “I imagine Alfred would have accepted it without a thought as to what we would do with an animal like that.”

Both saw the dejected Noble they were speaking of at the edges of the room, no one daring to approach him after he faced such a disgrace in front of the Royal family. Matthew looked away from the pitiful sight and down at Arthur, clearly appreciating the compliment he had been given. He was not used to them, compliments, and he was especially not used to receiving them from someone other than his wife. Having his skills of diplomacy finally recognized by someone in the castle was putting his mood in high spirits, but he remained humble.

“Well, that’s just where my brother and I differ. Chi is a vital ally to us, and we can’t risk angering the Emperor for a zoo.” Arthur nodded when he spoke, again all too eager to throw scorn at his new husband. But Matthew was equally as happy to partake in a bit of truth-telling about Alfred, though his words were significantly less direct. It was habit, he had been raised around the all-encompassing light of his almighty brother, and of course, not one person dared cast even a bit of shadow on his name.

But it was clear Arthur was not another yes-man, and while Matthew did not have hope the arrival of a bitter-tongued Queen would change Alfred at all, it would at least give Matthew some reprieve.

In appreciation, he turned to Arthur, taking hold of both of his hands gently, “Would you care to join me for a late lunch? I know the hour isn’t appropriate, but I’m famished. My wife could join us, and it would be a good time to show you the gardens before nightfall.”

Arthur blinked, feeling the warmth of Matthew’s hands on his. In truth, while Arthur was not ravenous, he was hungry, and getting outside after being stuck sitting for so long sounded like a dream.

“That sounds lovely,” Arthur said, and Matthew pat his hands in acceptance, before backing away slightly, a smile still on his face.

“Great! I’ll change into lighter clothes and meet you in the Hall of Mirrors, if that suits you?”

“That’s quite all right.” The polite pair finished their pleasant conversation as they exited the room, hearing the spears cease and cross together behind them.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.” Matthew moved to leave, but Arthur called out to him in a barely audible voice.

“Um- Matthew,” The blonde turned, and Arthur stood his ground, ignoring the redness in his face as he mustered up an expression of gratitude. “Thank you for assisting me with today’s ceremony.”

He was not thanking him for showing up to the Morning Reception, and they both knew this. He was thanking him for his silence, and his kindness, despite the truth he knew. Matthew clearly had no plans of voicing the secret Arthur was dreading, and he at least deserved some sort of appreciation.

“… It was no trouble.” Matthew smiled, waving a hand as if he was pushing away all of Arthur’s worries. The pair said their goodbyes once again, and separated, Matthew walking in the opposite direction to his own rooms in the Western wing of the castle. Arthur was quick to move as well, aware if he were to avoid speaking to any other person he needed to disappear through the Hall of Mirrors quickly.

Walking swiftly, but still with composure, he floated past the mirrors, not letting himself smile even at the realization that his first _real_ duty as Queen had passed by without any larger incident. He had no time to grin like a buffoon or revel in such a small accomplishment, the rest of his days were going to be filled with even more important decisions and jobs. That was simply his life now.

When he returned to his room, he found it thankfully empty. Arthur removed his heavy overcoat, carefully draping it over the chair to keep its impeccable fabric from wrinkling. His idea of a ‘lighter’ outfit was simply that, to leave his vest, shirts, and pants on, but take the restricting coat off. The temperature had likely warmed throughout the afternoon, and sitting outside in such a repressive piece of clothing was do-able, but could end in a fainting spell for even the highly-trained Kirkland.

He spent a few more minutes washing his face in the basin of water that had been left next to the bed, but the room-temperature water did little in the way of refreshing him. With a final adjustment of his collar and accessories, Arthur was finding himself more than ready to eat. He idled about for a few more minutes, not wishing to be caught up in the exiting of the Nobles through the Hall of Mirrors, twiddling with the lace trim of his sleeves and the silk against his neck.

He had not noticed the sheer quality of his outfit, and knowing that he would be given a new change of clothes daily, never once re-wearing any pieces of his clothing, it settled in just how expensive his presence was. It was not as if he desired it to be that way, he had no issue with wearing an overcoat two or three times, but tradition would _never_ allow that to happen. Even when the kingdom was on harder times, and money was not as plentiful, supplying the King and Queen with an endless array of suits and dresses was of the utmost importance. Regardless of the truth, the Monarchy’s image should never be anything other than that of utter opulence and beauty. Reality was no factor in the realm of Kings.

Settling on his appearance with a self-confirming nod, Arthur left the room and exited into the Hall of Mirrors. Katyusha and Matthew were already waiting for him, arms linked, thoroughly ingrained in their light-hearted discussion. They were the perfect picture of a couple in true love, only smiling and giggling through their conversation underneath the impeccably sculpted sky above them.

Fate had chosen Alfred as the first born, and Arthur did not doubt the will of God, but seeing an actual marriage filled with love made him think perhaps they deserved to be the ones who stood as the figurehead of the kingdom.

“Arthur!” Katyusha noticed him before he spoke, unwinding her arm from Matthew’s so she could bow at his entrance. Matthew did not follow her lead, instead only nodding at the blonde, a much welcome change in his mind.

“I trust I didn’t keep you waiting?” Arthur asked, and both shook their heads, Matthew pointing outside toward the setting sun,

“We were watching the sun set.”

“Oh my, it’s already so late?” The sun was setting later and later as the seasons progressed into summer, but the warm winds could not hide the fact that it was still merely the end of winter. By the time the group had finished eating, it was obvious it would be dark.

“It is best we eat quickly, then,” Katyusha said, and both men agreed. Matthew took to leading them from the castle and into the gardens, at one side his wife, and the other his newly crowned brother-in-law. They listened closely as Katyusha informed them what each noble had gossiped and mentioned to her this morning as they sat in the thrones, and hearing the familiar names and flowered words over and over again were beginning to make Arthur feel nauseous. Eating, and the silence that came with it, could not come soon enough.

When they found themselves at the castle steps, leading down and into the courtyard that teemed with carriages and horses carting the departing Nobles, the fresh air swelled with the smell of roses. It was a bit early for them to be naturally opening, but carts and carts of already blooming bushes were brought in to supplement the gardens for the wedding, creating an artificial Springtime.

Arthur thought the falsity of it was extremely obvious, he knew gardens, and his family’s own rose walkways were famous for their beauty. So he could tell when a certain bush had not been allowed to grow to its full potential, and when one was just a placeholder meant for aesthetic purposes. It was a shame that no one else seemed to care really, the stragglers of the nobility idling around the fountains and sculptures in order to admire the, what he thought were, lackluster blooms.

“It will be nice when the _real_ flowers bloom,” he commented, and Katyusha looked at him with wide eyes.

“I didn’t realize these were fake.”

“They aren’t, they plant imported bushes during banquets if it isn’t regular blooming season,” Matthew explained, before he looked over at Arthur, smiling, “I’m surprised you were able to tell.”

“Well, Kirkland roses are world famous.” Arthur let a prideful smirk take over his face, and Matthew only laughed at the haughtiness of his words.

“A quiet dinner between the roses, real or not, sounds delightful to me.” Katyusha pointed ahead to the small, wrought iron table that had been assembled as she spoke. There were wheeled tables filled with plates of arranged dishes and wines, crystal fixtures glinting in the reddening sun surrounding it, and it created an effortless view.

“Perfect timing,” Matthew thanked the servants holding out their chairs, implying he had been the one to call for the makeshift dinner in the gardens. They accepted his praise wordlessly, instead, moving to supply all of the royalty with a glass of wine once they were seated.

“The view is lovely,” Arthur said, their position still elevated enough that they were able to look out across the entire grounds before the castle. Winding paths of immaculately trimmed hedges and fountains surrounded one large, manmade lake, a statue of the ancient God of the Sun holding a spear and flowing basin in his hands. The people milling about the walkways looked small enough to be insects, all clustering around different sculptures and flower arrangements. They seemed almost bearable when they were unaware that they were being observed by the higher eye of the Queen.

“I take my meals outdoors when I can, the feeling of the air is just incomparable.” Matthew moved to drink some of his wine, but paused before, “And eating near my brother’s insatiable appetite is almost impossible.”

Arthur chuckled, covering his mouth with the napkin he had been trying to lay across his lap. Katyusha nodded as she spoke about the beauty of the gardens, naïve to the fact that it seemed she was agreeing to the second insult her husband had spoke.

Arthur was feeling, surprisingly, relaxed. The food smelled delicious, the kitchen having prepared all day for the first meal of his stay as Queen, and the view of the gardens was placatingly beautiful, enough to put even his mind at ease. He could see himself enjoying this meal, despite everything else at hand.

“Before we eat, I have something to say,” Matthew said in a muted voice, making Arthur stop before he took a sip of his wine.

Oh, bugger. So much for peace and happiness.

“On your wedding night, I interrupted your dancing to tell you the… Royal bed had been prepared.” Arthur remembered this well, and he swallowed in discomfort without saying a word. “I never in one million years would have done that if I hadn’t been forced to. The thought of it made me embarrassed beyond belief.”

Matthew’s face seemed red as he spoke, even in the complimentary lighting, and Arthur could not pretend his own was not flush at the awkward memory. But the man pressed on, continuing his apology though it pained him.

“You see, my brother should have escorted you himself, but he never does anything that could trouble him in any way. He tries to move his responsibilities onto his advisors, or whoever he can, and I do my best to pick up what I can and keep things running smoothly. I simply could not stand the idea of some drunk, old man telling you it was time for…”

Matthew trailed off, and Arthur got the message, clearing his throat so he could respond himself. Katyusha was looking between them with a concerned gaze, placing a hand on her husband’s arm in a form of support, to which he patted in thanks.

“Well, I certainly understand then…” Arthur could feel an awkwardness creep into their once comfortable atmosphere, but Matthew was satisfied with having said what he needed to. Before the silence could choke them, there was a shout behind them, startling the trio and making them flinch.

“Matthew!” Unmistakably the voice of the King, Alfred was causing the gravel of the path to crunch underneath his boots as he approached them. There was nothing less than a caravan behind him, Yao at his side while various men carried his hunting supplies and boxes made of velvet in their arms. Arthur felt the last of his tranquility vanish as he reached their table, holding the glass in his hands in a vice grip.

Yep, so much for peace and happiness.

“Alfred, what a surprise,” Matthew was politely distant, but stood anyway, Katyusha mimicking his movements only a second later. Arthur remained seated, setting his glass down and crossing his legs sharply, hopefully signaling his still-present anger.

“Well, the hunt was plentiful, we couldn’t bring anymore back than what we already had,” he proudly said, putting his hands on his hips. “And I brought gifts!”

“Gifts?” Katyusha clapped her hands together in excitement, eyes wide. Alfred nodded, and motioned for one of the men to come forward, a floral box tied with a silk ribbon in his hands. The man presented it to the thrilled woman, kneeling to the ground while he held it above his head.

“Oh, goodness, you didn’t need to do such a thing.” She untied the ribbon and the soft sides of the box fell away, a pair of light blue, bejeweled shoes sitting on the inside. Katyusha gasped, picking up the pair of exquisite heels, feeling the silky quality of their cloth. Her eyes began to water, and she tried to wipe away the tears as they fell, shoes smacking together in her hands.

“They’re so lovely! I can’t accept such a thing with no occasion.” Arthur found it odd, that she would act such a way about a simple pair of footwear, a rather mild gift in his mind. But when she removed her own shoes to try on the new ones, he saw the dark green fabric peak out from underneath her dress. Green shoes, in the Spades kingdom? Was she playing with death?

The Clubs kingdom was never as prosperous as the Spades, hard winters and barren land plagued most of their large country. Their castles and nobility were naturally illustrious, but only so much glitter and smoke in mirrors could hide the truth, it was a land crumbling from famine and deficit.

New shoes to Katyusha, something Arthur himself was presented with every day, were a treasure. She was clearly still in the mindset that she needed to limit her spending in order to save her people, not realizing that those she ruled over now were fat and happy.

“They fit perfectly! Oh, Alfred.” She threw her arms around his neck, and he hugged back, pulling her tight. Arthur glimpsed Matthew watching the exchange with dead eyes, and he made sure to look away from it all and pretend he was still sipping his drink when Alfred was done.

“And for my brother.” He again motioned for another present, and startled everyone when a boar was pulled forward, still very much alive and now squealing. “I brought the hunting to you, since you never leave this boring place. We can set it loose in the forests around the castle!”

“Ugh.” Matthew took a step back, away from the animal, all while Alfred smiled dumbly. “I don’t share the same penchant for death that you do, Alfred. Thank you, though.”

“Hm, fine then,” Alfred spoke in a disappointed tone, waving the boar away with his hand. “We’ll have it cooked for dinner then.”

Arthur watched it be pulled away with an upturned lip, disgust on his face. Katyusha was still admiring her shoes, eyelashes glistening, when Alfred walked by her to Arthur’s side, kneeling so they were eye-level with each other.

“And I couldn’t forget my Queen.” The final gift was placed in his hand, a small box with intricate carvings across the top. Arthur looked at it with a frown on his face, not meeting Alfred’s stare, instead watching him open it slowly.

A ring with a sapphire the size of an eye was resting on a silver band inside, pure, white diamonds rimming it. It was a perfect match to the one Alfred owned himself, the large ring Arthur had tried on this morning fresh in his memory. It was only a bit smaller, made to fit Arthur’s hand without looking obscenely gaudy, but was of the same exquisite quality.

“Oh, how beautiful!” Katyusha exclaimed, and Arthur found himself at a loss for words, the gemstone dazzling even in the shade of his shadow. Alfred’s grin was nauseating, but Arthur could not deny the pure, artistic beauty the piece of jewelry had.

“Well, put it on,” Alfred nudged it forward, and Arthur looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Despite his apparent displeasure, he reached for the ring and put it on his finger, feeling it slide over his knuckle tightly before sitting snuggly in place.

“It’s a fine piece of jewelry,” Matthew remarked, making sure his compliment was aimed more at the ring itself than Alfred’s gift-giving.

Arthur lifted his hand and twisted it back and forth, seeing how the sapphire captured every sliver of light it could find and used it to shine brightly. Something like this could take your breath away if you let it, but thankfully, Arthur was famously pessimistic.

“You didn’t need to buy something so expensive, I received enough gifts today at the Morning Reception.” No thank you, only a reminder that Alfred had abandoned him, but the man did not seem to mind.

“We ride through the Capital to reach the hunting lodge in the forest, the shops were merely on the way.” Standing up, Alfred brushed the dirt from his pants, his dismissal of the gifts sounding rude to everyone other than him. “My father did the same for my mother, he bought her a matching ring the day of their marriage.”

Arthur kept his head low, masking the blush there by turning away so he could not see his face. So it was only tradition then…

He had no idea what he was feeling, or why on Earth his face was so warm. It felt like Alfred was dragging him around carelessly, smashing him through piles of jagged rocks before letting him lay in a bed of flowers. In the incredibly short time Arthur had known him, he had caused him to fall into a bottomless depression, and was now making him blush, of all things? The man ignored the truth, and chalked the heat of his body up to the sun as it grew near the horizon, brushing off the slight chilliness of the real temperature.

“Well, I’m starving! Go fetch two more chairs, we’ll join you for dinner.”

Sighing, Matthew took his seat again, resigning to the fact that his dreams of a quiet dinner were now dashed by the appearance of his brother. Katyusha was the only person who seemed okay with the arrangement, thanking the man that took her shoes away as they all scrambled to follow the King’s orders and return with chairs for him and Yao.

“We have much to discuss, now that I have you all together,” Yao commented, moving to the table and setting a large book down in an open spot. Arthur was thumbing the ring idly, now developing a bad habit as it was big enough to distract him from whatever other things he was feeling, listening to Yao’s words.

The book opened with a thud, the thick cover labeled in uncountable roman numerals, pages of writing sprawled in columns and notes inside. Yao flipped through a few pages until he found what he was searching for, placing his fingers on one name to mark his spot as he looked up at those surrounding him.

“Within a few weeks, the other suits Royalty will arrive at the palace to congratulate you on the King’s ascension, and the Royal wedding. With two celebrations at hand, I am expecting their gifts to be large, and for them to stay for quite some time.”

“Oh…” Arthur said aloud, without meaning to, echoing around the silent table. He had utterly forgotten about the Royal procession that was to arrive after the crowning of a King, and his own wedding. Even he had never been around for such a special occasion, it had all been above him until now, only recently becoming actual Royalty.

“Matthew and I were married during the war, so no one could visit. It will be like celebrating two weddings at once now!” Katyusha exclaimed, enthusiastically locking arms with Matthew in delight.

“How long will they be staying?” Matthew asked after smiling at his wife, seeing Yao think for a minute.

“Records say King Andrew’s Royal procession lasted for about one year, but those visiting were of the last generation. All three of the current Royalty are new to their thrones, relatively, and will probably be eager to stay for much longer.” Yao’s extensive knowledge was on display, and he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear while he continued. “Especially with the war ending, many will want to remain to discuss new alliances, and of course, flaunt their winnings.”

“So we’ll be accommodating them, for what, another year?” Alfred questioned, seeming unbothered by it all.

“I would guess closer to three years.”

“Th-Three years?” Arthur blurt out, not believing the casualness in their tones. “We are expected to house them, feed them, and entertain them all for three years? That’s a bit ridiculous.”

“It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds.” Yao raised his eyebrows, visibly unamused. “Though it may seem odd to someone who has never experienced such a thing.”

That was true, out of everyone at the table, Arthur was the only person who was not a full-blooded Royal. He was noble, even the highest of them all, but the innerworkings of the real top of society, the ones who were divine in birth, really were unknown to him. He felt them all looking at him, and he shrunk, shoulders rising in defense.

“I just think it’s a tad absurd, it will cost us too much. Right, Yao?” He looked to the frugal man for help, but all he received was another blank stare.

“We are in fine financial standing, and even if we were not, accommodating other Royalty would be our top priority.”

“Begin ordering things for the feasts, fireworks, dancers, musicians, I don’t care the cost.” Alfred began initiating his orders out of nowhere, voice strong. “I want every welcoming to outdo the last, and be remembered throughout history.”

“The Diamonds should be the first to arrive, given their castles closeness to our own,” Yao commented as he took a few notes in the book beneath the names of each kingdom, mentally of course, without a quill and ink at the moment.

“Then make sure they’re welcomed with full Spades hospitality.” The man rolled his eyes at Alfred, but not at the concept he was speaking of, knowing himself how important it was to keep appearances up in front of other kingdoms. Intimidation was their strongest card at this point.

The chairs Alfred had asked for were finally there, and with everyone able to sit, Yao continued his dump of information with even more gravity.

“How much do you know of the other suits Royalty?” Everyone aside from Katyusha seemed unsure, and Yao sighed, flipping some more pages before continuing, “The Diamonds arrive first, so I’ll start there.

“The King of Diamonds, King Francis Bonnefoy, is the longest ruling of the three. He assumed the throne when his mother died during the Eastern War, and he has enjoyed relative success since then. The Diamonds pose us no threat, however, as their only strength is their wealth, and Vash Zwingli.”

“You mean Vash Zwingli the war hero?” Arthur inquired, and Yao nodded, pushing aside the wine that was given to him.

“He is knighted in both the Diamonds and Spades kingdom for his excellence during the war, and now that his sister is Queen of Diamonds, he was given the title of High Jack.”

“Hm, Vash was young when I last met him. How is his sister ruling, she can barely be of age now?” Alfred easily downed his own serving of wine, and held the empty glass out for a refill, the sides of his mouth stained red.

“She’s not, she’s living separate from the King until she comes of age. Then she will be officially married to him and assume the throne.” Surprising everyone, Katyusha answered, attempting to explain herself when she received startled looks. “It’s a heated subject of gossip at Court! Given that King Francis is rumored to be a Casanova himself…”

The implication of the ‘rumors’ were clear, and everyone made their own displays of distaste. Ignoring them all, Yao moved on, flipping the page to the Hearts, though it was obvious he would not need the reminders at all.

“King Ludwig Bieldschmidt of the Hearts kingdom has ruled for the least amount of time, and he was never first in line for his throne. He only was crowned after his brother, Gilbert, disappeared during the war, and is now assumed dead.”

“The great Bieldschmidt mystery,” Alfred commented with a laugh, as if it were all a game to him. Arthur rolled his eyes pointedly, but did not catch his attention.

“I actually met Ludwig when we were both children. We got on quite well,” Arthur confessed, seeing Yao make a mental tick at his words.

“Maybe you should serve as his greeter, then.” Yao made sure to move on before Arthur could interrupt with his sputtering disagreement. “The High Jack, Feliciano Vargas, is nothing of note, just from a long line of Hearts nobility. The Queen however, comes from a country close to my own. It’s called Tsuki, and up until now, it’s been neither strong nor rich. But they allied with the Hearts kingdom and one of their princes, Kiku Honda, is ruling as Queen.”

“Another male Queen, huh,” Arthur remarked quietly to himself, absentmindedly wondering if they would have much in common, coming from such different worlds.

“Finally, the Clubs.” Katyusha visibly wiggled in excitement at Yao’s words, unable to contain herself.

“Oh, it has been so long since I have seen my family! I cannot wait for you to meet them all.” She put a hand on her face, her smile beaming.

“Would you care to explain then?” Yao was annoyed at her interruption, and the suggestion was not a serious one, but Katyusha did not seem to notice, instead taking a hold of the conversation with vigor.

“Of course, of course!” Katyusha settled herself in her seat, doing nothing to calm the glee in her expression. Yao sat back in his chair, disbelief on his face at her complete disregard to the actual meaning of his words, and Arthur had to do his best not to laugh. “Well, my younger brother, Ivan, is the current King of Clubs. And he is just so adorable! He always has the babyface he was born with, even though he is a grown man now. He ruled through the end of the war, and did well for the country and its people.”

She was undoubtedly enjoying the chance to rave about her family, who she seemed to remain close with despite her distance from them, but Arthur could not ignore the question that popped into his mind at her story. He took a chance to ask when she paused to breathe, setting his glass down gently on the tablecloth.

“If I recall correctly, Clubs birthright is the same as Spades, where firstborn receives the throne regardless of gender. Why did your younger brother ascend when you are the older sibling?”

Her mood instantly bottomed, the smile falling from her face as her body visibly drooped. Katyusha did her best to hide the change in her disposition, but the sharp eyes of everyone around could easily pick up on it. Matthew was the only one that did not move to question her as well, instead sitting up straight with a serious expression, his hand on her arm for support.

“W-Well…” Katyusha paused, unsure how to explain. “In my country, the noble advisors hold much of the power… Of course the Royalty has the divine right but… My mother and father never did much in way of running the country, or teaching us how to do it as well, in truth.”

Just from the start of it, Arthur could tell he had hit upon a place he should not have. But at this point, there was no way to stop the sorry tale.

“I did my best to raise my brother and sister with the virtues necessary to rule, piety, kindness, and strength… Virtues I know they still possess in their hearts! But age and distance can change many things…

It was decided I should marry Matthew and give my brother the right to our throne when my parents died, as the advisors found he was… better suited to their interests. By sending me away to learn the customs and language of the Spades, they got control of his education, and his heart from a young age, things I always did my best to take care of.” She finally looked up from having kept her eyes lowered at the table, only glancing over at Matthew with a sad smile. “Of course, I do not regret coming here and finding love, but I am afraid to know what has become of my easily influenced brother in my absence.”

The whole thing seemed preposterously dreadful, and the way she was describing her younger brother was setting him up to tower as some sort of villain in Arthur’s mind. Naturally, the Clubs and Spades were always distrustful of each other, but never once did the Queen perceive them to be any sort of enemy to the throne. They were in a time of peace, a welcome one after years of war, and doubting those closest, those who had fought next to them, seemed unnecessary.

This ease of trust, this naivety, would be Arthur’s biggest misstep, one he would not come to realize for many years.

With Katyusha’s melancholic tale finished, Yao head the discussion again, seeming to be the only person not outwardly shaken at her words, “As Katyusha said, King Ivan has been in the throne since it was decided she would be married to Matthew, about two years ago. His Queen, Elizabeta Héderváry, is a noble, and world-class athlete. She has won many titles in both swordplay and mounted archery.”

“I look forward to facing her when she arrives, then,” Alfred said, grinning.

“Unfortunately for you, Clubs customs dictate the Queen should not be involved in any sort of physical sports or competitions.” Yao watched Alfred’s smile never fade, shaking his head when the man shrugged his shoulders and thoughtlessly said, ‘Who cares?’

“Lastly, the High Jack, Roderich Edlestein, is a noble from Hearts lineage. He was gifted to the Clubs kingdom by the late King Gilbert in their peace treaty during the Eastern War. His abilities as a musician make him one of the most popular entertainers in all Royal circles.”

“Every song he plays on the violin seems to transcend its original writing. The first time I heard it, I could barely believe I was alive, and he wasn’t an angel,” Matthew reminisced, and Katyusha nodded in agreement, seeming to have perked up slightly now that her lamenting was done.

“These are many names I’ll have to remember.”

“Another time, let’s eat now! Before the food gets cold!” Alfred breezed past Arthur’s remark, waving over the servers that had been patiently standing by through their entire debriefing.

“Actually, it would be best now to go over every Royal’s preferences and personal facts, as to-“

“No, not now. You said it yourself, we have weeks until the Diamond’s carriages will arrive, and only now to eat this dinner. Unless, you want me to starve, Yao?” Alfred gave the fuming Yao a bemused glance, and the man stood, slamming the book shut.

“Fine, but if they kill you because you served them a chilled soup instead of a vegetable aperitif, don’t come crying to me.” Yao picked up the long skirt of his robes and stomped away. He flew past a pair of shocked ladies, their large, drooping hats blocking the dimming rays of the sun from their pale skin, faces aghast.

“Oh, Yao, you won’t be eating with us?” Katyusha called after him. He waved his hand in the air, not even turning back, tulle and silk ballooning around him.

“No, I will take my dinner in my room, like always.”

“What a touchy fellow,” Alfred uttered, reaching for a slice of bread as the silver plate of butter was placed on the table.

“Maybe he wouldn’t be that way if you treated him with the respect an Emperor is used to,” Arthur said snidely, even more miffed when he received no response from Alfred, only the sounds of him eating the bread grotesquely hitting his ears. “Are you listening to me at all?”

He had started without waiting for anyone else, and Matthew sighed, diffusing the potential skirmish at their first dinner as a family with the soft sound, “Let’s eat before the sun fully sets.”

Begrudgingly picking up his silverware, Arthur made room for the first plate of his meal to be set in front of him, the neatly arranged portions of asparagus and marinated fish working together like a piece of art.

The entire meal was interrupted only by Alfred’s bragging and boasting of his hunting trip, describing in detail how he had successfully tracked and killed over fifteen boars. It made Arthur sick to his stomach, and he made sure to insist Alfred stopped by the time the dessert came and he was still rambling on about the arrows he launched straight into the beasts’ hearts.

“Oh, don’t act so Queenly when it isn’t necessary,” Alfred spoke between mouthfuls of cake, teeth stained white with icing. “If you’d give it a try, I’m sure even you could enjoy hunting.”

“And just what is the implication of ‘even you’?” Arthur had barely touched the appealing slice of cake before him, but he certainly was not hungry now.

Matthew felt his shoulders slump watching the Royal couple fight, his previous hope that Arthur may be able to reign in his overwhelming brother’s aura disappearing at the sight. Instead of cancelling each other out with their opposites, it seemed Alfred and Arthur’s differences were only feeding into one another and creating a highly combustible, and equally as disruptive presence. Arthur, at the bottom of it, was just as excitable as Alfred was, but seemed to prefer anger to general annoyingness.

Standing, Matthew interrupted their exchange, everyone at once pulled to look at him. His own dessert was only half-finished, but he felt completely through with the meal.

“I think I’ll retire now, the sun has almost set.” Katyusha gathered herself at Matthew’s words and stood as well, at his side, “Thank you so much for joining us Arthur, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Matthew made sure to offer no words to his brother, but the man was nowhere near jaded, barely paying attention as he shoveled a second piece of cake into his mouth. Arthur set his fork down and faced him, trying to bounce between the polite words he should offer Matthew, and the rudeness he had been slinging at his husband.

“O—Oh, of course. Thank you so much for the invitation, the air was truly refreshing.” Matthew smiled in thanks at Arthur, and linking arms with Katyusha, took to walking back to the castle.

“Goodbye Alfred! And Arthur! I’ll see you tomorrow morning!” Katyusha turned to call to the pair, Alfred waving after her with big swings of his arm.

A low breeze whistling was all that spoke after they left, the two now alone at a half-empty table, with nothing to say. Alfred seemed unbothered, cleaning out his mouth with a toothpick, but Arthur was consumed with awkwardness as the silence extended, and the ring twirled between his fingers without comfort.

“Well, I’m returning to bed as well,” The blonde finally stood, a small wind brushing his hair into his eyes. He pushed it away with his hand, and the cold silver of the ring shocked his face, still not used to the presence of the jewelry.

“I suppose I will too, then,” Alfred began to stand, and Arthur backed up a few steps, face red.

“No! You should go see off the Nobles still preparing to leave, since you completely disregarded them this morning.”

“What does it matter?” Alfred shrugged, finally standing at his full height and towering over the much shorter Arthur. “They’ll still be my loyal subjects, regardless of if I wasn’t around for one day.”

“Do you have no concept of how important relations with the kingdom’s elite are? These aren’t just farmhands you can appease by waving your hand at them, these are the people that keep you in power and support the monarchy. They need to be treated with respect.” Arthur’s overly-traditional lecture was clearly falling on deaf ears, Alfred still not showing any physical signs of reconsidering his rude words.

“I rather prefer farmhands, they actually believe in my position as appointed by God, and they don’t need pretty gifts to remind them.” Arthur felt the words hit his chest like a heavy rock, the ring on his finger now a dead weight dragging his body to the ground. So, he was still just another stuffy Noble to Alfred, then?

“You absolute idiot… Just- Just do as I say before you cause a revolution, will you?!” Arthur spit the words with venom, to cover up the hurt shaking in his voice. Turning his back to both Alfred and the sun, he stormed to the castle, holding his breath to contain any display of emotion as others watched him fly by.

Alfred rubbed his neck in confusion, seeing Arthur march up the stairs without a clue as to what he had done wrong. It seemed like he could do no right in the eyes of his new spouse, and even with a gift of incomparable lavishness, he still could not manage to please him.

Alfred had even left Arthur alone last night, despite feeling the way he did, despite being told countless times that consummating his marriage was the most important part of his wedding…

He made an audible noise of distress, scuffing his boots against the ground. The girl who had snuck by to begin cleaning the table, not even noticed by the previously arguing duo, looked up in surprise, unfortunately catching the King’s eyes as he turned around. All of the other servants had left, carting away the leftover trays of food, and now she was sequestered to face this horrifying burden alone.

She felt she should look away, but when faced with the physical manifestation of the sun, with something she had been taught to worship, she was only able to freeze in both fear and admiration. Alfred’s expression quickly switched to a smile, and he approached, taking the heavy collection of plates she was balancing from her hands.

“Need help?”

The girl had never, in her entire life, imagined the King of Spades would be helping her clean up his own dirty mess. Tears began to form in her eyes against her will, and her innocence made her sputter quickly.

“I-It’s not n-necessary, Your Majesty! I couldn’t let you-“

Alfred began to laugh, cutting her off and forcing her face to go a bright red, “I couldn’t let a girl as small as yourself carry this all. Honestly, why did they send you to collect the plates?”

The words were, unwittingly rude, but she did not react at all, unable to feel negative emotions during such a situation. She attempted to reach for the plates again, but he pulled them away, walking over to the silver cart she was stacking the silverware on and setting them down.

She felt a need to explain herself, and she grabbed onto the front of her dress, balling her hands into fists to steady their shaking, “I-It’s my first day, I was only hired last week. They’re testing me, th-the other maids, I mean. They told me to collect it all before the sun sets, thinking I couldn’t.”

It was extremely inappropriate to bother the King with such trifling matters, but she found herself rambling in time with her racing heart, unable to stop herself. Alfred turned around and saw the pitiful sight, the hero complex he was known for kicking into full-drive as her cheeks glistened with wetness under the disappearing sun.

“We better hurry and finish, then.”

Nearby, two women unfolded their fans and began whispering, watching the scene playing out before them with narrowed eyes.

 

Arthur was preparing for sleep in complete silence, lost in thought, when a sequence of knocks rapped upon the Royal bedchamber’s door. The women unfolding his flannel nightgown paused, the heavy fabric hanging from their hands in a checkered pattern.

“One moment, please-“ Arthur called, standing up so the servants could slide the nightgown over his arms and atop his light chemise. When he had the front completely buttoned, he nodded to the woman guarding the door, standing with his arms crossed as she let the visitors enter.

Two extravagantly dressed women, whom Arthur knew to be the De Lacy sisters, entered, curtseying immediately when they saw him in his nightclothes.

“Your Majesty, we apologize for the late intrusion,” The first spoke, and the other followed.

“We were just about to begin our return to our own estate, but we felt we must come speak to you personally with troubling news…”

“What can be troubling enough that it should require an unannounced visit?” He should have used a kinder voice, but he was not in the mood for any sort of visitor, especially at this hour.

They both stood, but kept their eyes low, glancing at each other only once before speaking again.

“We were having a late walk in the gardens when we saw something… unnerving.” Arthur was waiting as patiently as he could as they spoke, but the way they were describing whatever it was was making him shift positions in worry. He had his mouth pulled into a sour pucker when the other sister continued, finally looking him in the eye.

“We happened to walk by after you had finished your dinner with His Majesty, King Alfred. Once you left… Oh, it pains me to even say it!” She looked away, and her sister set a hand on her shoulder, supportively continuing for her.

“If I may be honest, Your Majesty, we saw a simple servant girl approach King Alfred and use his good nature to coerce him into doing her work for her. You had only just left, but she was so obviously throwing herself at him, we could barely believe what we were seeing! The day after your wedding, and she was showing such insolence to you and your crown…” She sniffled and ran a hand underneath her eye, the only one able to tell her fingers were dry. “We felt we must tell you immediately.”

Arthur was at a loss for words, brows coming together as he watched the two recover from their harrowing tale. They waited as the silence continued, shifting on their feet when Arthur inhaled deeply, placing a hand on his hip.

“This is what you came to tell me?” When they nodded, he turned around, taking his seat again at the vanity, face unreadable. “I see… Thank you for letting me know. You may leave.”

The sisters were apparently disappointed, staying even after they were dismissed to look at each other in disbelief. The older stepped forward, holding her hands out to implore more from the Queen.

“Will His Majesty do anything after such an insult?”

Arthur picked up the whale bone brush and handed it to the girl that had been brushing his hair before, signaling he wished for her to continue. The bristles soothed his troubled mind, and the small massage it gave his scalp made it easier to speak his next words.

“I won’t do anything presently. Again, thank you for your care.” This truly marked the end of the conversation, and when the doors opened for the pair to leave, they scuttled out without another word.

As they angrily stomped down the hall, the woman closing the door could hear them seethe, “ _Clearly_ , no one has informed the new Queen that our talents will be much more necessary than that of brushing his hair.”

She made sure to close the door before any of the words could reach Arthur, and she stood in front of it, watching him sadly.

“Honestly, why would they think I would care for such trivial information? My husband isn’t just a grown man, he’s the _King of Spades._ I’m sure he helped that servant girl because he wanted to. Even I can’t tell him what to do,” Arthur mused aloud, and the girl behind him seemed moved to speak, pausing her brushing.

“If I may, Your Majesty…” In a much more polite tone the servant asked, feeling him nod beneath her hands. “I do not speak ill, you must believe me, but the previous Queen of Spades… Was much more interested in the whereabouts of her husband, King Andrew. I think the fine ladies may have assumed you would be interested in the type of knowledge they normally relayed to the late Queen.”

“Alfred’s mother? …Really?” Arthur was surprised at the information. So the previous Queen was the jealous type? Arthur _could_ perhaps be jealous, in the right situation, but to be so protective over a man that belonged to everyone was only asking for torment. At least, those were his feelings at the present moment.

“B-But I think it is very admirable that His Majesty does not feel the same way! The trust between you and King Alfred must be very strong!” The girl insisted, and Arthur shook his head, only lightly disagreeing with her.

“Jealousy is only a vice of the person, not the result of a relationship.” His words were bitter compared to her compliment, and the mood of the room dampened instantly.

“I see. That is very noble thinking, Your Majesty.” Those were her last words, and she backed away, retreating into the silence she had been in before.

Now fully prepared for bed, much warmer in his large flannel unlike the night before, Arthur moved to take off his ring. He watched it dance in the light of the candles, and he slid the sapphire from his finger slowly, setting it in the jewelry box where Alfred’s would accompany it when he returned as well. It looked lonely against the red velvet, but Arthur closed the lid without another word, leaving it by itself for now.

“Thank you ladies for your help this evening,” He said, standing as they curtsied to him. They all left room wordlessly, and the click of the door settling shut in its frame marked his chance to relax.

In preparation for the night, he had set one of his favorite novels next to the bed, on a golden nightstand. He grabbed it, and crawled underneath the comforters, their cover cold after not being touched all day. He knew the blankets would warm as he spent time beneath him, so he accepted his shivers silently.

Opening to the first page, Arthur was transported to a familiar time, where nothing that mattered currently was even a thought in his head. He had first started this book as a teenager, when he was 16, and memories of taking breaks from his studies to read at his own leisure in the rose gardens of Kirkland Manor were still easy to see in his mind.

The pages were rough and well-known, and he read the first lines with ease-

_“How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing is the heart of man. To leave you, you whom I have been inseparable, whom I love so dearly, and yet to feel happy! I know you will forgive me.”*_

In what felt like a split second, Arthur was fifty pages into the book, and the door to the room was opening as Alfred arrived for bed. Arthur’s heart began to pound when he heard the heavy sound of his boots crossing the floor, but he made sure to never tear his eyes away from his novel.

Alfred stopped by the vanity to remove his rings, and then sat at the foot of the bed. He began to remove his boots, and Arthur turned the page of his book, even though he had not been able to consciously comprehend one sentence on the prior pages. It was the only noise in the agonizingly silent room, and it cut the air between them like a knife.

How the hell were they supposed to sleep?

“I’m glad you enjoyed your gift.” Alfred was the first to approach a conversation, and Arthur tilted the book down so his eyes were visible.

“It was a bit uncalled for, and much too ostentatious, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“Can you ever give a compliment?” Alfred asked, exhaustedly.

“I can, if the person deserves one.” Arthur went back to reading, and Alfred turned around quickly, his legs crossed in a pretzel position.

“So, your husband isn’t a person that deserves a compliment, ever?”

“My _husband_ has done nothing but abandon me to deal with his duties, and returned when he felt like it with ‘pretty gifts’ to remind me who is the divinely appointed King!” Arthur let the book fall against his chest as he yelled, the culmination of his own anger and sadness peaking now that he sat in the same bed he sobbed in only a night before. His feelings were Alfred’s fault.

“Wait- What? Did you think I was talking about you when-“ Alfred’s eyes were wide behind his glasses, and Arthur let out a sound of exasperation.

“I don’t think anything!” Arthur rolled over and tucked the closed book against his chest, holding onto the hard object like it was a calming stuffed animal. “Now, good night, Alfred.”

 _“Then I wish you wouldn’t say anything.”_ Alfred whispered under his breath, just as lost now as he had been the entire time he thought about Arthur’s true feelings.

The man got into bed next to the unwelcoming form of his Queen, spacious enough that it left room so they did not need to touch while they slept. Putting out the candle next to his nightstand, Alfred plunged the room into darkness, hearing only the shallow breaths Arthur was letting out as he forced his eyes shut.

There was an ocean of distance between them, but after hearing the somewhat personal outburst from Arthur, he thought, perhaps, they were closer than they had been before.

* * *

 * Pamphlet books- Back in the 1700's, the major source of literary entertainment for common people were pamphlet books that included amusing drawings and poems. They ranged from cataloging the exploits of prostitutes, to spreading radical political beliefs. They were very important in the French Revolution, and famously contained the names of the Nobles and Royals that were called to be executed. By the Nobility, they were considered vulgar and useless. I think they can be rather funny, though.

*The Hall of Mirrors- The Hall of Mirrors in the Spades' Castle is based off of, you guessed it, The Hall of Mirrors at the Palace of Versailles. A lot of the Spades architecture, the structure of the gardens, and the castle itself are going to be modeled around the Palace of Versailles, since it's the living model of Rococo and Baroque style. Check out a picture of the Hall of Mirrors [here!](http://www.abc.net.au/news/image/7247660-3x2-940x627.jpg)

*The Sorrows of Young Werther- Both the novel that Arthur reads, and the title of this chapter, are based on the 1774 book "The Sorrows of Young Werther". It's a very sad, but wonderful story, written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. It follows the story of a young, wistful artist that falls in love with a woman who is already engaged to be married. You should give it a read if you have the time.

And finally, just a little note, both of Alfred and Arthur's rings are based off of the Hope Diamond, an infamous piece of jewelry that is said to be cursed, but is still beautiful. A picture of that is [here!](https://www.si.edu/Encyclopedia_SI/nmnh/images/hopediamond.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and thanks for reading Chapter 3! I really have to apologize for how long it took to upload this, I had computer troubles, and ended up losing the entire chapter when I was nearly done with it... 25 pages all lost to my memory...  
> So, it took me a while to retype it to the best of my ability, and even then, I was never happy with it. That said, it never felt like it matched the quality of the other two chapters, so I hope you can forgive me for that!
> 
> Now, I'm getting excited, because the other characters are being set up, and I'll be slowly introducing them (along with more in-depth backstories of course,) through the next couple chapters. Also, I added a new ship to the tags I somehow utterly forgot about, PolLiet! I couldn't write something with all of my favorite ships and characters and forget the beauty that is Felix.
> 
> That's all I feel I have to say, but let me apologize again for the wait. You shouldn't need to expect the next chapter to take this long, obviously, and I hope you are all still interested!
> 
> Please leave some kudos, a comment, or feel free to message me on my tumblr/twitter (silvakuros) with your thoughts on the story so far! All of your observations and ideas, (many of which are true!) really keep me going and inspire me to keep writing this. Thank you for reading!


	4. ♦♠The Sun♠♦

“Sweet One, look at me.”

Lilli felt her eyes flash open in a second at the words, shaken from her placatingly deep sleep by the sound of the man’s voice. At least, it had felt deep to her. In reality, she had drifted out of consciousness for only a minute, her forehead pressed against the thin glass of the carriage, rattling her brain around in her skull as it rolled on.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s not proper to fall asleep sitting up like this.” Her voice was hoarse with her own weariness, but she did her best to hide it, rubbing her green eyes softly with her hands.

When her vision was cleared, she saw Francis smiling at her, looking unruffled despite the long journey they were taking together. His hair was still flawlessly curled in place, and his skin did not sag, seeming immune to the fatigue that dragged down the other passengers.

If there was an award for the human able to stay outstandingly beautiful, regardless of the circumstances, the King of Diamonds was sure to be the winner.

“You look absolutely exhausted,” he said, and she continued to rub her face in embarrassment, hoping to bring color to her drained skin. “Do you want to lay your head on my lap?”

Francis reached a hand out, hanging in the small space between them, bumping up and down as the rocks rolled under the wheels. Lilli barely thought, grabbing onto it and letting him guide her to his side on the opposite end of the carriage.

The girl adjusted her skirts, pulling her feet underneath herself as she settled onto her side, softly placing her head on the quilted cloths that covered Francis’ lap. He set one of his hands gently on her head to encourage her, and she let out a sigh, finally relaxing against the soft rest.

The older man smiled down at the girl as she settled into his lap, her sloped nose red, her long eyelashes blinking as she turned to look up at him. It was a heart-wrenchingly adorable sight, and he felt a paternal twinge at it, running his fingers through her golden hair to lull her to sleep.

“Would a story help you sleep?”

“…I think so.” She nodded, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore the way the bouncing of the carriage made her feel ill.

“Well then…” Francis shifted his position a bit to get himself more comfortable, before he began to pet her head again, feeling the pleased noise she made hum against his legs.

“I’ll tell you about my good friend Gilbert.”

“You mean the King of Hearts?” Lilli’s eyes once again opened at the familiar name, hearing Francis shush her slightly to pacify her.

“Yes, he was the King of Hearts, you’ve been paying attention in your History lessons,” Francis praised her, and the girl shrugged her shoulders.

“It isn’t really history yet, is it? I mean, he could still be out there…” Lilli mused, but the man could not find it in him to respond to her comment. That innocence was almost enviable.

The girl was as soft as a sponge cake, her youth and naivete keeping her far from the realities of war. She had never experienced the bleakness of a comrade lost, or a harsh winter with no young men and women to brighten the streets. Villages filled completely with the elderly, the sick, and children, every able body halfway across the world to stake the claim of their kingdom; she had never seen that.

To her, the impossible was still imaginable, and those that went missing three years ago in war could very much still be alive.

“I never told you how we met, hm? Of course, as young Princes we were destined to cross paths, but we weren’t necessarily meant to be friends. In fact, we were _certainly_ not meant to be friends.”

Lilli was smiling at the warming thought, friendship against the odds that seemed sweet given the circumstances. But at the time, it was highly disputed, and honestly, got both Francis and Gilbert in a needless amount of trouble. More than they would have conjured up themselves with their youthful antics.

“We formally met as children many times, but we never had any sort of connection beneath political reasons until his eighteenth birthday. I received an invitation to a masquerade in a castle right on the border of our kingdoms, built long ago as a defensive stronghold for the Hearts when our countries were at war. Now, it’s just a vacation spot for the Hearts Royalty, and I knew who the invitation was from even if it wasn’t signed.

Of course, I made an excellent show of my arrival to the party. I brought our finest carriages and every single friend I could find. Gilbert was humored by this, and came to greet me personally, despite the party being an anonymous masquerade. Naturally, we knew who each other were, and for the rest of the night we challenged each other in everything. Drinking, dancing, womanizing, which I easily won, we were the stars of the night and left with some greater understanding of one another.”

Francis could feel Lilli’s breaths slowing, and he was glad she was drifting to sleep before the ending. Not all stories had happy endings.

“We started a trend of masquerade parties, throwing the most marvelous balls one after the other. At that time there was not a moment where I felt bored, or particularly sober. It was the perfect cover to meet and enjoy ourselves, and the friendship we had found, away from the stipulations and rules of our birth. About two years after we met each other, the war began, and all of the fun ended. When I heard Gilbert was going to lead his troops into war himself, I honestly thought he was insane. But that’s just how Gilbert was, I didn’t expect anything different of him.”

And that was where Francis’ oral story finished. Lilli was already back to sleep, and even if she were not, there was no need for her to hear the rest of the sordid tale.

Gilbert lead a specialized squad of troops that were the first to charge into any battle, brazenly brandishing the bright reds and pinks of their banners to both terrify their enemy, and rally their military’s morale. They suffered barely any losses thanks to the young King’s tactical prowess, and the Hearts’ soldiery marched forward implacable, like a motorized battering ram.

It was on a cloudy night, when the light of the moon was blocked by heavy rainclouds, that Gilbert planned a sneak attack on the enemy. It was routine, he had outlined and executed many before, but for a reason no one knows, this one was different.

Francis only knew the details of what happened because he had sent countless numbers of men in search of information. At this point, he was probably as informed, if not more, than the royal family of Hearts on the King’s disappearance. But even the most capable and experienced of detectives, or hitmen, could only reach so far before they hit a wall. After that night, Gilbert seemed to melt out of existence, almost as if he was picked up by some celestial being and transported off the Earth.

After not receiving word that it was okay to advance, the next wave of troops that marched behind Gilbert’s force came upon the sea of dead bodies spread out across an entire open field. Every single one of the soldiers Gilbert lead were murdered, their bloody remains hinting at an unforeseen battle that left them defenseless.

There were many mysterious things about it all, but the most pressing, was that the King and his closest advisor were nowhere to be found. After the cleanup, every single body was accounted for, not even a limb without a name and face attached, except for Gilbert’s and his aide Frederich, whom he affectionately called Fritz, Francis remembered. Both of their horses were slain, and their weapons were left directly next to the animals’ bodies, every other part of their presence having disappeared into what seemed to be thin air.

Everyone assumed they had been taken prisoner, and that a ransom would be put out for their release, perhaps insisting on a surrender. But that day never came, and the anxious waiting for the return of the King stretched into months, and years, finally falling apart into the need to move on. His younger brother was of ruling age, and stepped up to the throne, but never ceased his search for the rightful heir.

Francis never stopped either, though with much less outward display, a first for him. He made sure his inquiring was sneaky, but despite his care, never came up with more than what seemed to already be known.

There were many nights where Francis closed his eyes and saw that scene, Gilbert standing in the middle of the butchered men that had thrown themselves into harm’s way for the love of their King and country.

He tried not to see it now, and instead looked up at the silent passenger that had ridden with the couple for the days they were traveling. Vash did not hide the distaste on his face as his little sister slept with her head on Francis’ lap, hating any kind of interaction she had with the man she was betrothed to.

“Would you like a story too, Vash?” Francis joked, hiding the negative emotions that plagued his voice, and the man turned his head with an annoyed grunt, staring out the carriage window in a huff.

After another hour, all three of the blondes were asleep, their dysfunction melted away into the soft sounds of their dreaming.

 

 

Halfway across the world, Gilbert Beilschmidt received a letter, the gold wax that sealed the envelope stamped with a familiar suits shape. He ran his fingers over the indents of its outline, and a grin grew onto his face.

 

 

In the Spades’ Castle, sleep came with less ease, the King and Queen awakening in the early morning to a violent flurry of knocking on their door. Both sat up, Arthur bundling the blankets against his chest to cover himself, and Alfred reaching over for his glasses on the nightstand.

“Come in,” Alfred called, standing up from the bed and leaving its warmth reluctantly. He blocked his husband slightly, for which Arthur was grateful, despising the constant enter and exit of strangers that seemed to be routine in the castle.

Multiple guards entered, fully dressed and carrying their decorated spears with them. Two women walked behind them, one older and one younger, more visually separated by the fact that one was freely walking, and the other was all but being dragged into the room. The sobs were heard immediately, the young woman dressed as a maid shaking as she was tossed forward haphazardly and landed on the ground on her hands and knees.

“What is the meaning of this?” Arthur was appalled, and the disgust was apparent on his face as he observed the scene from the safety of his bed.

“I-I’m s-so sorry Your Majesty. I n-never meant to insult you or-“

“Silence!” The older woman interrupted the messy apology the weeping girl was attempting, and she just let out a small cry, her head falling down and training her gaze on the ground. She wept to herself silently, and could not force herself to meet the eyes of the monarchs in front of her.

“Your Majesties,” the elder maid curtseyed as she spoke, making sure her words were louder than the girl’s crying. “I humbly apologize for such a rude awakening. But I was informed this morning by one of His Majesty’s ladies that this newly hired servant yesterday insulted you. She attempted to force herself on His Majesty the King, and used his kindness to suggest he do her simple work for her. It is completely unacceptable.”

The woman looked up, unsure if she should continue, but when both of the men were silent with completely unreadable expressions, she pressed on, “All of the maids and butlers who serve you in the castle only wish to make you feel as at home here as we can. When I heard some dull girl had stepped out of her place, I could not describe the sadness I felt. Please know, none of my girls will ever show this type of insolence again, I can assure Your Majesties of this.”

“Stop this.” Alfred’s voice had a coldness in it, an alarming ring that Arthur had yet to hear exit his mouth since he had met him. He suddenly felt chilled, aware everyone in the room had the same reaction, their faces wiped of all emotion. It was an intense show of power, and Arthur was not sure it would have had that effect if it had come from anyone other than the King.

When they first marched into the room, Alfred had not recognized the girl now kneeling before him. But after the reminder of the girl in the garden, he could recall her face, despite it being buried behind tears. Swiftly, he turned to Arthur, no smile or kindness on his features, seeing the man looking buried beneath the giant bed.

“What have you done?”

“I’ve done nothing!”

“Nothing? You call this nothing?” Alfred was raising his voice, and he gestured to the girl who was bawling harder with each word that was spoke. “You’re no better than my mother! God…”

“’N-No better than your mother?’” Arthur slammed his hands down, the blankets in his grip making a soft thud. He looked away from Alfred in fury toward the woman that seemed to shrink under his gaze, unable to escape the argument she had caused.

“And did these ladies inform you I said I wanted _nothing_ done about this ‘insult’? That I didn’t consider it an ‘insult’ at all? Does no one care what I actually think, or say, in this place at all?” Alfred seemed surprised by Arthur’s words, but he was not able to interject, the Queen jumping to his feet.

“Leave us, and for the Lord’s sake, give this woman the day to rest. I’ll be taking my breakfast _alone._ ” The final statement was pointed at Alfred, and Arthur stormed from the bedchamber into one of the many connected rooms, flinging the door shut deliberately.

It was silent for only a moment after he left, before Alfred reiterated his order, wishing to help the girl to her feet but was not quick enough. She swiftly gathered her skirts and ran from the room, her shoulders still shaking as she cried. Alfred watched her go with a hand slightly outstretched, left dangling in the air as his attempt to reach her was ruined.

 

 

After Arthur had began his breakfast in complete silence, all of the ladies attending him afraid to raise their voices after hearing the gossip of what had passed, there was a hesitant knock on the door. It was heavy, but there was a resistance in it, and Arthur sighed at the noise.

“Let them in,” he conceded, and one of the ladies waiting to retrieve the rest of his breakfast went to the door. Arthur had hoped his words would be taken seriously, and that his morning meal would be one he ate completely alone. But, per usual, his words meant nothing in the face of tradition, and his breakfast table was surrounded by the women who would later dress him.

He had the odd feeling that he missed Katyusha. At least, her less threatening and relenting presence. These stoic statues of strangers made the circle they formed around him seem almost sinister, and this breakfast was much worse compared to the other day.

The door opened to reveal none other than the King himself, and Arthur felt his shoulder instinctively lift up in response.

“Leave us,” Alfred said after stepping into the room, and the successive exit of the women was quicker than anything Arthur had ever seen in his entire life.

Arthur had nothing to say, he simply went back to eating his breakfast with little fanfare. He picked up a single grape and plopped it in his mouth, chewing in silence as the final attendant left and the door was closed.

Now the silence was awful. Alfred said nothing, Arthur said nothing, the whole room was oppressively awkward. The wind that lifted the curtains pleasantly was almost howling in comparison to it all, and the pair just stood in it.

Alfred finally walked forward, stopping at Arthur’s side and placing his hand on the table.

“We’re going on a walk today,” Alfred said it so matter-of-factly that it almost made the Queen choke.

“I don’t seem to remember ever agreeing to that.” Arthur reached for another grape, but paused when Alfred spoke again.

“You didn’t, I made a joint decision.”

“By yourself?”

“By myself.

“Completely goes against the meaning of joint, then, does it not?”

“Is it always games of words with you?” Alfred pressed himself closer to Arthur, cutting off his view of the table and standing in front of him. The grape was knocked from Arthur’s hand and he pulled his wrist back, clutching onto it with an irritated look on his face.

“You can’t just force your way into someone’s heart!”

“And you can’t close your heart off, so no one has a chance!” Alfred had had enough of it all, and he leaned down, pressing a hand against the back of Arthur’s chair and pinning him in. It was something he did a great deal, in order to grab another person’s attention, or trap them into his conversation. His brother, his father, a pretty lady, if they seemed to slip from the conversation or show disinterest in what he had to say, all Alfred had to do was simply trap them there. It was easy, but why did it feel different now? With his body to close to Arthur’s it felt almost… embarrassing.

 Arthur felt his face set on fire, the warmth spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. It was not as if the situation did not make Alfred blush as well, he just hid it better, the pink complementing his tan face more than Arthur’s pale skin lighting up like a wick.

“No one in this castle wishes to spite you, and my family does not view you as an outsider. You are Queen Arthur, Queen.” Alfred had to continue at this point, his words pouring out with no shame to stop them. “If you carry yourself as one, no one will even question you. Everything done against your wishes up to this point has been done in good faith. Everyone only wants you to like them Arthur, they want you to be happy.”

“Then listen to me for once!” Arthur yelled, and Alfred backed away, standing up again.

“And they will now.” Alfred’s comment sounded so sure, so confident, that Arthur almost believed it.

Shaking off the previous interaction, Alfred picked up an orange and tossed it into the air, catching it in his other hand with ease. Why was this Arthur Kirkland getting him so worked up? He disliked it.

But that did not mean his plan would not continue on as he designed it to.

“Well, hurry up and finish you breakfast. I’ll be waiting in the gardens by the statue of the Sun.”

“What about the morning Reception?” Arthur narrowed his eyes, and Alfred let out a sigh. This was the problem with hanging around goody-two-shoes.

“We’ll skip it today. There’s no one here anyways, and nothing to talk about.” Alfred inspected the orange in his hand before setting it back in the basket he plucked it from, thinking about his own breakfast of meats and eggs he would much rather prefer to the paltry fruit.

“I’m not sure Yao will let us live past lunch if we don’t show up,” Arthur was doing his best to imitate the nonchalant nature Alfred was displaying, but he was fidgeting knowing his skin was still red. “It’ll be your second time in a row skimping out on one of the only jobs you actually have, on your second day as crowned. Not the best record you’re earning yourself, King Alfred.”

Alfred liked the way that sounded, and he liked the challenge hiding in Arthur’s tone. This man really did not believe in Alfred’s power, did he? Arthur believed in rules and customs, but was he aware all of the rules and customs pointed to Alfred having whatever he desired? Rules and customs honestly only mattered to those who cared about them, and Alfred’s name was not one that appeared on that list.

“Who will say anything when the King and Queen are busy strolling through the gardens, bonding?”  Alfred laughed when Arthur was stunned into having no reaction. He tapped the wooden table twice with his fingers before exiting the room, pausing in the doorway to give the other man one more wink before disappearing.

Arthur found he could not finish his breakfast after that.

 

 

Sneaking out of the castle was easier than Arthur had assumed it would be. After the incident in the morning, and the King’s brash order to leave them, it seemed none of Arthur’s ladies wished to disrupt him when they thought he would be eating. And how could they? They had strictly gone against his wishes and passed along the fake gossip that Arthur detested more than anything. Even if they were doing it for his sake, like Alfred insisted on, they still defied the Queen, and that was no light matter. It was enough to get someone kicked from the castle instantly, and they were lucky Arthur still let them on his service after what they caused.

Huffing at his thoughts, Arthur adjusted the buttons on his vest he had chosen himself and descended the back stairwell he managed to locate just outside of his room. Behind the decorated walls of the castle, was a network of back hallways and staircases that served both as transportation for servants, and secret modes of travel for the Royalty. Whether they were visiting a lover in the dead of night, or just wishing to escape the eyes and ears of the nonstop surveillance they lived under, the trick hallways and doors were essential to that.

The Kirkland mansion itself had its own interlocking highway of hidden alleys, so Arthur knew how to navigate them well, having trampled through the dark stretches constantly as a child. Finding his way out of the castle was the easy part, down to the first floor, out any door that faced East where the front of the building was constructed to capture the sun, but avoiding any other person in the hallways would prove the most difficult. It was the beginning of the day; the work was plentiful, and everyone was bustling about holding fresh linens and trays of food. Once or twice Arthur was nearly caught, pressing himself up against the cold stone walls and holding his breath as the various people thankfully turned into diverging paths and never crossed him.

Why on Earth was he doing this? Not only was he making a fool of himself by sneaking around like a wanted criminal, he was doing so all for the sake of _avoiding_ his duties as Queen. And for what, a stroll in the gardens likely to be filled with bickering and jabs?

Arthur just could not stand the thought of leading the morning ceremony alone. Even if no one would be there aside from the regular occupants of the castle, sitting there alone, perhaps waiting again for Matthew to rescue him, felt completely unfeasible, he just could not do it.

And Alfred knew that, it basically was the reason he knew Arthur would go along with his ‘asinine’ idea in the first place. While Arthur was a stickler for rules, he was also an introvert, who clearly seemed to care for outward appearances to some degree. While Alfred could mildly relate to the last part, it was on another scale, being the face of a Kingdom and whatnot. He cared if he looked strong, if his parties were exuberant, and if his wealth was apparent, a far cry from the Queen’s internal law and order. If he had to lead another Reception alone, Alfred thought he may combust, and placing all the blame on his husband later would be easier for Arthur than all of that.

Maybe that was what would make them a good team, in the future, Alfred wondered. They certainly were not now, but perhaps…

Well, those thoughts were useless to have, and Alfred looked up just in time to see Arthur descending the marble staircase to the gardens. The small heels of his shoes were clicking each time he took his rather fast paced steps, and by the time he reached Alfred, the other could tell he was slightly out of breath.

“Couldn’t wait to see me?” Alfred grinned, and Arthur rolled his eyes slightly, taking a deep breath before formulating a response.

“Hardly, but sneaking out without Yao on my trail was terrifying.”

“Sneaking out?” Arthur paused when Alfred questioned him, his hands frozen over the buttons on his waist as he adjusted them. “You can just walk out any door you like, you know. Don’t tell me you took the back passages like a maid?”

“Don’t tell me you walked through the Hall of Mirrors and out the front steps like some sort of madman?!”

“That’s exactly what I did.” Alfred proclaimed proudly, either not caring, or unaware he just agreed with Arthur’s comment. The blonde scoffed in disbelief, and moved to question Alfred’s sanity, but the other cut him off before he could. “Let’s walk, then. If we wait here for too long, we’ll be easily found.”

“I don’t like the way this is sounding…” Arthur objected, but wrapped his arm around Alfred’s after he held it out with only slight hesitation. Despite layers of clothes separating them, Arthur’s arm felt hot as it reacted to Alfred’s much larger one leading him forward. It was a typical position two would take when they went on a stroll, but it was certainly one only lovers or close friends would use, and Arthur tried to ignore his thoughts as they began along the path that wound around the lake.

It was silent for a few steps, until Alfred spoke, a rose bush brushing past his side.

“My great-grandfather commissioned that statue,” Alfred pointed to the largest fountain in the garden, and the star of the entire manmade lake, a towering portrayal of the ancient God of the Sun and a large cutout of the sun behind him. Only his lower-half was covered with a carved cloth, seeming to drape like real fabric over his legs and descend into the lake where the mechanics and hydraulics of the fountain pushed the water up and out of the many spouts surrounding him. A single stream of water also shot out of his finger, which was pointed toward the sky at the real sun, creeping up with every minute that passed.

“It’s a wonderful piece of art,” Arthur commented, and took the chance to observe it closer. Such clean lines, and despite the years the marble was still as white as snow, the result of constant cleaning and upkeep. He truly meant what he said, and he opened his mouth to remark about the artist’s other works in the castle when he felt the air leave his chest as he was shoved forward.

Alfred just could not help it. Seeing Arthur look so intently at the fountain, his green eyes wide and capturing the morning sun, he felt compelled to do something. Hug him, hold onto him, push him? Pushing him was the correct choice, most certainly. It was the only way to get out the emotions Alfred felt burning in his head.

Everyone always said Alfred never grew up, that he was always a boy in his heart, and here was the proof. Boys always picked on the people they liked.

Besides, Alfred had planned on swimming after their walk anyway, he needed to get his husband to start caring about his health. Arthur was so skinny, and pale, and waifish, he needed to make it a habit of exercising with Alfred if he wanted to live as long beside him. Who else was going to do the boring work if Arthur died before him?

Arthur hit the ice-cold water with a splash, and a loss of feeling. The shock of the freezing water made his heart momentarily stop, and his limbs felt as useless as a dead octopus’ tentacles. When the feeling all came rushing back to his body, he clawed up at the surface, breaking past it with a large gasp.

The first thing he heard was Alfred’s uproarious laughter, sending his body from frigid to boiling with rage.

“Alfred!” He screeched, and it only made the man laugh harder, doubling over as Arthur’s white shirt billowed up around his arms and transformed him into a soggy pile of fluff.

Arthur’s teeth began chattering instantly, and his lips had already gone blue by the time Alfred decided to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was blinking rapidly as the water dripped into his eyes, and he looked exceptionally pathetic in the crystal-clear water.

“You need to bulk up, swimming in the cold will get your resistance up,” Alfred explained flatly, wiping his finger on his pants to get rid of the wetness. Whether seething out of pure anger, or physically unable to answer from the shock, Arthur remained silent, and Alfred waited a few more seconds before approaching him.

“You can’t just ignore me, where’s that Kirkland spunk?” Alfred was still smiling, but felt it fading as Arthur remained completely silent with a dead stare. Taking a step forward, Alfred reached out his hand, bending down so he was level at the waters edge and could pull the blonde out.

“Here, I’ll help-“ He was unable to finish his sentence as Arthur latched onto his hand, and used the last of his strength to tug him into the water with a devilish smirk on his face. Alfred caused an even larger splash than Arthur had, and the water covered the chattering man once again as he attempted to shield it from his face.

It took less time for Alfred to react to the water than it had taken Arthur, immediately coming to the surface, and shaking his shaggy hair back and forth. It sprayed Arthur with more water, and he attempted to back away, but was instantly caught by a hand underneath the water that latched onto his wrist.

“Let go-“ Arthur tried to scramble away, but Alfred already had him in a vice grip, and it was tightening every second. Unsure what to do, but afraid to continue standing there, Arthur used his free hand and sent a wave of water splashing over Alfred’s body. This made him let go and back away, but not for long, a low chuckle emitting from his chest as he stood drenched before Arthur.

“Big mistake, little Queen,” Returning the blow, Alfred sent an even bigger splash back at Arthur, who only managed to dodge it partially as he turned around and faced his back to the water just at the end. Before he could turn around again and enact his own revenge, he was swept off his feet and lifted into the air.

“E-Excuse me! Put me down this instant!” Arthur yelled as soon as he realized Alfred had picked him up and was now holding him suspended over the water. The air was thankfully warmer than the lake, but being held against Alfred’s chest was even warmer, and the blood was already returning to Arthur’s blue face as he could feel the heat.

“Sorry, you knocked my glasses off, I can’t seem to tell where down is.” It was true, Arthur just now realized that in the struggle the bespeckled man had lost his glasses to the shallow lake. They could be replaced but…

Alfred’s anger could not. Without any signs of struggle, Alfred lifted Arthur higher into the air, before slowly lowering him, his back-end feeling the water as he let out a small yelp.

“Down is where the water is, am I right?”

“Don’t put me down then! Get me out of the water!” Arthur tried struggling but it was useless against Alfred’s iron grip, and his heels splashed against the water as he kicked. “It’s your fault! You caused all this!”

“You really aren’t winning any awards with convincing me over here…” Alfred began lowering Arthur again, and the strangest thing happened.

Everything was blurry and obscured without his glasses to assist his sight, but Alfred swore he saw Arthur smile. And then, immediately after, there was a laugh, as sharp as ice and as thin as glass. It was kind of unsightly, with a small snort near the end, but to Alfred it sounded like one million angels sounding their trumpets.

After seeing only his frown, and hearing only his complaints, experiencing Arthur laugh was an indescribable feeling. At that moment, he weighed barely anything in Alfred’s arms, and the only thing he left was his fuzzy, small smirk.

“You imbecils!”

And with unceremonious acrimony, it was over. Yao severed the moment cleanly like his voice was a sharp pair of scissors on a string of silk, stalking up to the pond with an infuriated face. He was holding all of his robes tightly in both of his hands, so his feet were free to move as quickly as he liked, and his face was so scrunched in anger he looked thirty years older than he actually was.

It took Alfred a few seconds to recognize him, but the long mess of black hair alerted him sooner than anything else, his face still a blur at his distance.

“Oh, hello Yao.” Alfred turned toward him, barely aware he was still holding Arthur until the man began to shift in his arms.

Arthur needed to get out this position quickly if he had any chance of convincing Yao that it was not his idea to skip the Reception. He also needed to leave Alfred’s arms for his own health, his heart had already stopped once before, and if it continued at its heightened pace as he was held closely to his chest it might just stop functioning for the last time.

Managing to slip out of his arms, and splash back into the water, Arthur sunk down until his chin hit the surface, now accustomed to the temperature, but still shivering. He was mostly full of the sense that he needed to hide.

“’Hello Yao’? ‘Hello Yao’!” Stopping at the waters edge, Yao dropped his skirts and raised his chin, looking down at the pair with pure malice. “Ignore us while we frolic in the fountain, you just take care of the duties we’ve been given the right to do!”

Without letting the pair get a word in, the infuriated brunette turned to speak directly to Arthur, his eyes narrowed and his mouth scowling, “I expected more from you, Arthur Kirkland. You seemed to at least understand the semblance of responsibility needed to run a kingdom.”

“Well, to be fair-“ Arthur began, before Yao raised his hand, stopping his sentence before it began.

“No excuses.”

Well, that settled that. Arthur sunk a bit deeper, but Alfred did not seem swayed, taking a few steps forward so he was the center of the conversation.

“And is the kingdom still running?”

“…I’m sorry?” Yao shook his head in incredulity, causing Alfred to repeat himself.

“Is the kingdom still running?” Alfred stepped forward again, seeming larger in the water than he had before, his now transparent shirt clinging to his chest. “Are the streets still stable? Are the farmers still fed? Is the castle still standing?”

“No thanks to you.”

“No thanks to me, or Arthur, but you handled it Yao.” Sighing, Alfred tilted his head, seeming to think for a moment. “There wasn’t even anything to do, but you managed to do it Yao. You’re amazing.”

The words were so calloused even Arthur was surprised. But they were spoken in a way that no hostility could be found, even if you dug at it with a shovel for miles deep. How did Alfred mean that? What sleeping bear was he poking with his honeyed, but sharpened stick?

But Alfred was all smiles, looking back at Arthur with a grin, then up at Yao. It was a heavy silence punctuated with the calls of birds, flitting about the trio as they were trapped in a tense stare-down.

“Your brother is going to give you an even larger lecture, so I am done with this for now.” Yao lifted his skirts again, and turned on his heels, stalking back up the stairs at the same quick pace he had descended them with.

As he left, Alfred placed his hands on either side of his mouth and shouted, “Could you ask for some towels to be brought to us?”

Yao responded with a less than friendly hand gesture back at him, but left the pair without another word. Arthur was partially amazed, partially confused, and wholly unsure what kind of man he had married. What kind of power, what charisma did someone have to escape that?

What kind of monster was the King of Spades?

But at that instant, he did not embody a monster. When he turned back around to flash a thumb up at Arthur, the water fell evenly from his hair and only made his clothing hug to his body more. His bright blue eyes were borderline electric without the glass that normally covered them gone, and they bore a hole straight into Arthur’s freezing heart.

Then, he looked more like an angel.

* * *

 

The lake at the Spades' castle is inspired, again, by the lake at the Palace Versailles. Surprise, surprise. [Here's a picture](http://www.protocolsnow.com/wp-content/images/090711_paris/versailles_lake.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back to myself and you all! I have no excuses, because I have been applying for study abroad and was accepted after all that work, so I'm only celebrating. Thank you for waiting!
> 
> Now we have not only Spades, but the Diamonds and Jokers introduced as well. I'm aware Sealand/Peter is supposed to be a Joker card, but the plans I have for the Jokers aren't things I'm comfortable applying to a child so he is just a normal child in this AU. Normal little Peter who is now the normal Kirkland heir... it's better that way.
> 
> I'll be doing the chapter intros with the Hearts and Clubs as well for the next two Chapters, and then we'll have all the official Royalty introduced. There are characters who will appear later that are not official Royalty, but the Kings/Queens/Jacks will all be here. As for the others... well you'll just have to wait and see!
> 
> Thank you for all the responses I received over this break, both as comments and as messages on my tumblr, and I'm glad you've all remained interested in this story. Until next time-


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